Dreams and Dragons
by PlainSimpleGarak
Summary: After a fight with the Purple Dragons takes a turn for the worst, Casey Jones is left to face his fears and his claustrophobia. An in-depth look at the many conflicts a vigilante faces on the road to recovery and redemption.
1. Dreams

_Author's Notes: This began as an exploration of claustrophobia, and is expanding into an exploration of how we deal with pain, through the point of view of perhaps the most physically fragile fighter in a bunch of superheroes: Casey Jones. It is my intention for this to be a personal journey for Casey, him seeking out answers for problems that seem to exist only in his mind._

_I had originally put this up as a one-shot in early 2007, but coming back to it, I felt it deserved attention and expansion. I reformatted and reedited the original first chapter; but did not change the content._

_After putting it down for nearly 2 years, I am intent on finishing it._

_Again special thanks goes out to the folks at Stealthy Stories for some dazzling word prompts. It may not seem like much, but sometimes even the smallest pushes help ideas flow._

_This is set more-or-less in the 2003 cartoonverse, but it also draws elements from the comics, and both the original and 2007 movies._

_Rating: M for violence, coarse language and non-graphic reference to sexual abuse_

_I make no claim to the TMNT franchise, or the characters. As always, I enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading._

**Dreams and Dragons**

A look at what drives a vigilante – and what holds him back.

xXx

**Dreams**

_because the vilest villains are only in our mind_

xXx

Casey wished the water would beat away his worry, wash away his cares and send the pain running down the drain along with the soap, the dirt, and the dried blood. But the water held no magical properties, and at the moment it was only burning his back. Groaning, he stepped out of the stream and towel-dried his red skin.

His head ached in a slow, dull throb. And even though his nose had been reset, it was far from fine, and served to add to the beating red flashes of pain that ran across his vision. He could still see the shit-eating grin of the purple dragon that broke it. He wanted to be angry with that, but it was as if all the energy in his anger had bled out of him into a puddle in the shower, running down the drain.

All he could think about was how steep the stairs looked. _Pull yourself together, Casey. You're a vigilante; you sure as hell can climb a flight of stairs._ He briefly considered sleeping on the couch, but he knew his back would hate him for it in the morning. Groaning, he dragged his naked, beaten carcass up into his bedroom, into something that served as pajamas, and into bed. He was snoring before his head even hit the pillow.

xXx

It all started with a laugh, the same taunting, high-pitched jackal call from the fight. He hadn't realized he was in trouble until that moment - before then it had been business as usual. Raphael had been out with his brothers on some sewer mission, which hadn't particularly bothered him when he set out on his rounds alone.

Overlaying the laugh in his sleeping mind he heard the scream. It was the scream of a young couple in over their heads. He could see their faces clearly, too. College kids, the kinds that spend more time reading than they did running. From the first second he saw them he knew they wouldn't stand up to a half dozen Purple Dragons. But that was what he was there for. To protect people like them.

He twitched in his sleep, his mind replaying the first seconds of the fight, the crunch of his hockey stick impacting with the leader's skull. At least he thought it was the leader at that point. He never in saw the man in the shadows until he turned around, and by that time he was watching a gaudy ruby class ring head at full speed towards the holes in his mask. He could hear the clatter of the plastic on the cement as the mask was stripped from his face; though it had been a mixed blessing. It saved him from a night in jail at the cost of one broken nose. He had taken three of them down, groaning bodies scattered all over the alleyway, and yet the screams continued. A streak of white like an exploding streetlamp crossed his vision as something connected with his temple, and he remembered the world spinning a bit; not unlike when he used to run in circles as a kid.

But he never hit the pavement. Something caught him first, and unfortunately it wasn't a terrapin. The laugh rang out behind his ears as the remaining dragons stripped him of his coat, his golf bag full of weapons, and his shirt. He lashed a few weak punches at them, but it felt like his hands were disconnected from his body. Finally the thick-necked man from the shadows walked out into the hazy pool of streetlight and stood in front of him. In Casey's eyes then and his dreams now it looked as if he was standing on a ship deck that was being tossed by the sea, everything around him was unstable and in motion. The Dragons that could drag themselves to their feet gathered around their leader, each of them cheering for him to use a different place on Casey's body for target practice. In his bed Casey tossed and turned, trying to avoid the punches in his mind, punches that not more than four hours ago were forcing the air out of his lungs and making him spit blood until he had a river of pink frothy drool spattered across his chest from the drips on his chin. He was waiting for them to drag him away, or kill him. Either would have been preferable.

They simply slammed him up against a brick wall, his hands bound behind him, letting his naked back slide against the rough stone as he slumped into a hazy semi-consciousness. But the screams still hadn't ended, and despite the fogginess of his vision Casey picked his head up to locate its source. The boy was being tossed like an unconscious rag doll off to one side of the alley, his pockets and backpack being cleared of valuables and discarded alongside him; but his young girlfriend was still alert. She kept screaming, or at least trying to as they stuffed a greasy rag in her mouth and tore open the front of her shirt. One of the Dragons was telling her how pretty she was, while another one was advising her to simply relax and enjoy the ride. Casey worked his jaw, choking on his own bloody spittle as he tried to move. Behind his back he clawed so hard at his bonds that he bloodied the tips of his fingers. As one of the older dragons walked past him, he kicked his feet out in a desperate attempt to trip him.

The young punk grinned, kneeling beside Casey. His breath was fetid, like rotting fish, which didn't help his nausea.

"You don't get to help, vigilante. You just have to watch." He grabbed Casey by the hair, and turned his face directly towards the woman bent over the trashcans, pulling him back every time he looked away. Casey reached in back of him, grabbing the street punk's shirt and trying to bash him off guard, only to earn another kick in the ribs and another flash of pain. The girl was sobbing by now, her screams turning from terror to pain, from pain to agony and finally to a frenzied last gasp of terror as she faded into unconsciousness as the dragons took turns having their way.

That night it had ended there. The police had come for the disturbance and the punks had run. He remembered slipping in and out of consciousness as the police untied him, and slowly regaining his wits as they sat waiting for an ambulance to show up. Casey had slipped away when the cops weren't looking, stumbling down another dark alleyway. Despite the fact that they hadn't found his mask or his hockey stick, he didn't want to be connected to the scene, so he had dragged himself into the sewers like Raph had shown him, and slumped there against the wall as his vision cleared. But here in his bed he tossed as the sirens rang out and his mind seemed to rewind.

The scene started to reply again, as if he was stuck in a bad playback loop, only this time everything was overlapping. A greasy rag didn't muffle the girl's screams, but they were sharp like an alarm in his ears. All the sounds were overlaid with the ever-present jackal laugh of the Dragon leader, and Casey found himself walking through the streets like a puppet, with strings threaded through his hands and feet. He raised his hockey stick to strike the first gang member and someone pulled the strings, keeping his weapon at bay. Strike after strike he was pulled back before it hit, and the dragons punched him in the ribs over and over again. The same voice crowed in his ears "You don't get to help, vigilante."

He started to thrash about, pulling at the strings until blood welled in great pools from his hands and feet and still he couldn't move… helpless. He tried to scream, but no words came out, only rivers of pink spit, choking off his words and he gnashed like a rabid dog, struggling to gain control… control of his body, control of the situation.

He looked up, and saw the gang leader above him, holding on to all four strings. With an even yank, he pulled Casey upwards, until he was hanging by his puppet limbs, five or six feet in midair. All around his he was soaked in the same fetid fish breath. Reaching over, he tried to gnaw through the strings binding his arms, but every time he bit down all he came up with was a mouthful of ash. Spitting, the black soot stuck to his tongue, and it seemed to soak up the fish smell as the heat rose around him.

Heat? Why was it getting warmer? Casey looked around, watching the screaming girl run down the alleyway. His puppet master dragged him afterwards, and Casey hung like a limp manikin until he saw the flames.

"You don't get to help, vigilante."

Casey tried to yell to the girl, tried to warn her to stop, to not run into the flames, but the flecks of spit that came out of his mouth evaporated into the wind. He tried to close his eyes, but he found he couldn't move - transfixed to watch as she ran, naked, into the burning building.

"You just get to watch."

The strings were cut all in one blow, and Casey Jones fell to the ground of his dreamscape running, streaming a contrail of blood and puppet strings behind him. He knew this building somehow, he knew that he shouldn't go near it, and yet he couldn't stop himself from rushing forward. He could still hear the girl scream, and he couldn't leave her behind. He had already stood by without being able to do anything for long enough. Putting his head down, like a bull does when it's trying to ram something, he dove into the flames.

Somehow it wasn't as hot as he expected inside, in fact it was hardly hot at all. Squinting he could see someone huddled in the corner, waving at him. "Miss?" Finally his voice worked. "Are you alright?"

"Casey, help me!" That wasn't right… how could she know his name? Casey hauled himself over a burning countertop, heading for the back end of the room. "Casey!" the voice came again.

His breath caught in his throat. "Dad?"

"Help me move her, she's hurt!" He was kneeling beside the girl, trying to lift her.

"Dad, you have to get out of here!" Casey pleaded, reaching out for them. Behind him a flash of flame engulfed the roof and the whole structure of the house groaned. "Now, before this thing collapses!"

"Not without everyone!" his dad yelled back. The flames were roaring in Casey's ears, but still he couldn't feel the heat. Then again the girl wasn't moving but he could still hear her screams.

"Then give me your hand, Dad. I'll carry her." He reached out through the wall of orange and yellow, trying to catch hold of them, but no matter how far forward he pushed he couldn't catch hold of his father's hand. "Dad!" He shouted, or tried to, but once again he felt his throat fill with blood, sizzling against the flames as he coughed it out. In his head the ringing laughter was so loud it was like being inside of a bell as it tolled, each new guffaw punctuating another pulse of pain through his temples. Stumbling forward, he searched for his father and the girl, hands clawing against the embers of the countertop.

The roof heaved again and the crack that filled the air was like a mast snapping. Behind him a girder fell, a large chunk of flame reddened wood, blocking his path. He spun, hearing the screams behind him, tripping over the falling debris. "Dad!" The words died in his throat as the roof came down piece by piece around him, forming a cage. Through the tiny slits and flames licking the edges he could see his father writing as his flesh caught fire, watching it melt off as he tried to roll out the flames. Casey clawed at his prison, still not feeling the heat, but unable to overcome his entrapment, screaming wordlessly, and thrashing: helpless.

Piece by piece the building collapsed, forming a box around Casey's form. Around him he could see the flames die away, and the endless long hours as even the embers cooled, and things went silent. He stood, running his hands against the walls of his prison, trying to pull pieces free, resorting to beating his hands against the wood, pleading, praying, soundlessly screaming for release.

All he could hear was laughter. That barking, braying laughter ringing in his ears.

"Let me out!" He screamed, though the words wouldn't make it past his dry lips. In his bed he was tossing so violently he nearly fell out, beating at the box springs as he beat the walls in his mind. Slowly, the laughter faded, leaving him only with the sound of his bleeding fists slamming uselessly against a wooden girder.

Exhausted, he slumped back against the floor, feeling the cold of the steamy concrete sink into his bones, and he panted for breath. Above him, the ceiling of his prison started to sink down towards him.

xXx

He screamed.

He never screamed when he woke, save tonight. He snapped upright so quickly that his ribs screamed in agony. The shower was for naught; he felt like his skin was on fire, and his entire body was soaked in beads of sweat.

Usually any dreams he had would dissipate with the snap of consciousness, but not tonight. He leapt from the bed, sporting only his skivvies, and ran to the window. Throwing open the drapes, he sucked in breath as if there was something in the air that needed to be captured or his life would expire. He spun around, staring at the room wildly, and in his mind the bedroom walls started to collapse, with the ceiling falling first. Everything constricted, and he whirled about, unable to get a grip on reality. In the corners of the room he could see bits of flame starting to lick from the cracks in the wall.

He ran through the shabby apartment, flipping on every light switch he could find, until at 3:00 am the place was lit up like a Roman candle. Still his mind was in a fury. He ran downstairs, nearly falling face first down the steps, standing in the wide open living room with the huge bay windows, particularly chosen because he knew he was claustrophobic. The walls receded, and he took a breath, waiting for his skin to cool. As he stood there, his body began to feel numb, and he envisioned stirngs connected to his hands and feet. Panic rose from his gut all they up to his throat and he yelped, his voice sounding hoarse and thin. Turning like a wild dog in a cage, he slid across the linoleum of the kitchen and flung open the refrigerator. Tearing through the moldering contents, he took out a pitcher of ice water, took in a deep breath, and poured it over his head. It was desperation, really, a desperate bid to feel something other than numb, and to assure himself he was still alive.

It did the trick.

He sank to the floor, and his entire body started to ache, his head, nose and ribs most of all. He waited for the remnants of the panic to pass, and the flickers of flame to fade away. He just sat there, frozen and shivering on the floor of the kitchen, waiting for everything to re-align itself.

xXx

Exhausted, he walked slowly through the house, flicking off the lights, covering the rooms in the blissful darkness of predawn. The bedroom was still too cramped, too close to collapse for comfort. He walked slowly downstairs and grabbed the pillow and soft multicolored scrap afghan that his Aunt had given him long ago, and lay down flat on his back on the floor, watching the sky slowly fade to light as he let exhaustion overtake him.

xXx

At 7:15 he was officially declared AWOL, and at 7:20 April O'Neil decided she had enough. Throwing her hands up, she grumbled to herself "Where the hell is he? If he was going to be late he should have called." She paused and gave a winning smile to her vendor who was standing beside the packaged crates with an impatient look on his features. "Give me just a second, sir. I may have to come back later."

The businessman scowled as April pulled out her cell phone. "I trust that you will actually bring a truck then?"

Another beautiful grin from the antiques dealer punctuated her exit. "Of course, I'll be back soon!" As soon as she was out of his earshot she growled into the phone "Casey Jones, you had better pick up!"

She drove across town with a grimace on her face, swearing she was going to give him enough hell to raise the devil. She slammed her car door in frustration at her unanswered calls and marched into the garage, searching behind one of the wall posts for the spare key. She thrust it into the door like a swordsman running a man through and threw open the front door. All curtains were thrown open. Most of the windows open. The apartment was extremely chilly in the morning air, and April could see her breath form into a fog. Half of the lights in the upstairs were still on. Kitchen floor soaked. And the inhabitant, bruises welling up on his face and torso was sleeping the sleep of the dead; sprawled out on the living room floor, nearly naked, half covered with a multicolored garish afghan.

"What the hell?" April murmured, shaking her head as she knelt down, stroking his hair gently. "What happened to you, Casey Jones?"

xXx


	2. Defiance

xXx

**Defiance**

_because in our weakest hours we still cannot release our pride_

xXx

Coming to consciousness, Casey snapped a hand around the offensive wrist, as if it was some sort of violation of his personal space. He might have attempted to push it away or pull whoever was there off balance, but two things stopped him: the nagging pain through his shoulders and the soft feminine gasp from the wrist's owner. Slowly the battered man opened his eyes.

Warmth flooded into his cheeks, turning them a delicate shade of pink as he tried to turn away. Rolling to one side he ended up running his cracked ribs over a lump in the blankets, and shut his eyes to block out the flash of pain. Pinning both lips together he could feel April touch his shoulder.

"Casey… are you alright?" her voice was soft and concerned, laced with a touch of impatience.

He paused for several more seconds, waiting for the pain to pass enough to let him speak without gasping for air every other syllable. "Fuck, April… I'm late. I'm sorry." If he could just keep breathing he figured he could stand up.

April knelt behind him, trying to put everything together and coming up short. She could see bruises all along his arms, and despite how he tried to pull the afghan around himself, she could see large dark blotches on his chest and sides. Slowly she clasped her fingers around his shoulder and tried to coax him into looking at her. "Casey, it's alright. I can get someone else to help if you're hurt." Instead he rolled completely away, laying chest down on the floor.

"I… I'll be fine." The words sounded dry and sandy as he pulled his arms up against his sides in a push-up posture. Very slowly he drew himself to his knees, gritting his teeth to keep the pain internal. "I got a job, don't I?"

"I said I can get someone else," she replied stubbornly. Biting her lower lip, her eyes went wide when she saw his chest, and the long deep purple marks running across the ribs. Her face lingered between anger and deep worry. "Casey… I didn't mean it like that."

He turned to look back at her, pushing a shag of messy black curls away from his face. His eyes reflected the memory of the last argument they had just a day or so ago. Slowly the vigilante took the time to straighten up so he could breathe better before speaking. "I'm never reliable, isn't that what you said? Can't be counted on for anything. I said I'd help you, so I'm coming." He got a grip the coffee table and dragged himself to his feet.

The redhead shook her head; her hair had turned frizzy with the stress of the morning. "It's already 7:45, Casey." She had meant it as a deterrent.

"So I had better get my ass in gear." He muttered back. His head was spinning as he looked up, biting his lip defensively. He raised his face, defiantly, only to meet her soft green eyes, and shame drained a red tinge into his cheeks. For a moment he wondered why he couldn't just trust her and try to explain but pride overrode his wondering and he turned around to grab the railing on the stairs.

April had already pulled out her cell phone, her mood hanging somewhere in between worry and frustration. "I will call the supplier. It's fine, Casey. We can pick them up another day." She bit her lip, not adding words to the thought that he didn't even look like he could carry himself let alone carry heavy crates.

"I said I would do it!" he snapped back, darkness clouding his expression. The voice was so sharp it caused April to cautiously take a step back. Casey turned away from her again, lingering at the bottom of the stairs.

"Casey… why do you have to fight me?" she paused with a heavy sigh. "I don't understand." Her voice was plaintive, laced with confusion.

In response the young man hung his head. "What would you say if I told you? How many times have I heard 'don't go out at night,' 'it's not your job,' 'stop playing that stupid vigilante game.' So what… what now? You know damn well what I did last night," he gave a slight pause, "and I know you don't like it." Sucking breath through his teeth he continued on, "I wasn't planning on this, but it happened and now I can't take it back. I know. I fucked up and I was unreliable and not there for you again." His voice was bitter and dark.

April pursed her lips together. "I never said anything about that, Casey."

"No. but you were thinking it."

The antiques dealer blinked a little, opening her mouth to protest but the words never came out. She couldn't deny it without it sounding hollow. She had been thinking it. Finally she dropped her cell phone back in her pocket and tried a different approach. "Casey, I came because I was worried. I want to help."

He turned very slowly, still not getting up the energy to climb that first step. "I know." He murmured. "I shouldn't have done that to you."

She bit her bottom lip. "If I didn't want to be here I would have left already."

The comment caught him by surprised and he turned, eyes widening. Part of him didn't want her here, and the rational part of him finally realized he was standing at the base of his steps, standing in front of her in nothing but a pair of boxers sporting enough bruises to look like a rare breed of Dalmatian. He took in another breath, pain etching across his face clearly, bleeding out from the deep purple marks across the bridge of his nose and under his eyes. "I'm sorry…" he muttered numbly.

"Why?" April asked in confusion, taking a step forward. Her eyes flicked about his form, noting how white his knuckles were on the railing. "Casey, why don't you sit down?"

"Sit?" His words were slowly falling from dark to slurred. Very slowly he felt a knocking pain on his temple, like a doorman trying to gain entry to his brain. "Can I lie down?"

April nodded slightly, holding out and arm for support. "Can you tell me what happened?" Slowly Casey relinquished his grip on the railing and she helped him over to the couch. In the back of her mind she wondered why he hadn't chose the couch in the first place.

"Saw some kids – college kids. They were held up and pushed down an alley. I was gonna help… but I didn't see the last guy." He murmured, feeling his anger from before drain away. Despite his pride, the attention felt good. Something to hold on to, to know he was no longer alone. "My head hurts."

As he slumped to a sitting position on the couch April grabbed the afghan from the floor and straightened back up to brush away a long curly shock of hair. She frowned at seeing the large spreading bruise running just under the hairline above his ear. "I can see that." A motherly tone fell into her voice. "Why don't you lay down and I'll be right back?" The vigilante did as he was told and April took the time to steal away upstairs to grab some sheets, turning lights off and closing windows as she went. She flicked her phone open as she got to the top of the steps. The first call was functional – she had to call the vendor and reschedule a pick up. He wasn't happy, but she offered a modest storage fee and he shut up. The second was more worried, as she swapped her usual cell for a shell cell and flicked the device on.

"Heya April, what's happening?" Leonardo's voice sounded relaxed and pleasant. She could hear the sounds of Raph and Mikey arguing about the proper way to flip pancakes in the background.

She sucked air through her teeth before speaking. "Leo… I'm at Casey's. He was supposed to meet me this morning to pick up some antique furniture but he didn't show up." She paused, pacing a bit in his bedroom. "He looks pretty beat up. I don't know if Raph was with him last night or not, but I'm worried. I should probably call the hospital, but I don't want him in jail either…" she trailed off.

Leo's voice had turned from casual to sober. "You want a second opinion?" He paused and conferred quietly with his brothers for a second. "Hang on; I'm going to put Don on the phone." In the background the playful argument had hushed to a dull roar.

April waiting and upon hearing the voice of the purple clad turtle she felt a wave of relief wash over her. There was something knowledgeable and commanding in his voice that reassured her, in ways it reminded her of the fatherly tone Splinter had when he wanted people to calm down. He asked her some basic questions about what she saw and what she thought had gone on. April felt a little like she was on the phone with an emergency dispatcher, particularly since Donatello was able to keep his own tone calm and professional. She wished she could tell him more. "I'm sorry, but Casey won't tell me much."

The purple masked brother could be heard walking through the lair. "I will try to be over very soon, April. I'm going to ask Master Splinter about traveling there." He paused, thoughtfully, "does Casey's apartment have a basement?"

"I don't think so, but if you meet me at the antiques store I can bring you over in my van. I know you can get in there easily enough without being seen." She replied, heading back down with an armful of bedding.

"All right. I'll give you a call when I'm there. Conversely give me a call if anything changes before you leave, alright? Don't worry, April." She could hear a reassuring tone in his voice even as the cell connection closed.

"Thanks, Don." She murmured, flicking hers shut, and taking in a breath as she got to the bottom of the stairs. Casey lay there on the couch, collapsed where she had left him, his eyes fluttered slightly as she approached. "Hey…" she started, kneeling down beside the couch, wrapping a blanket around him. "You awake?"

"No." he replied in a hazy tone, adding the slightest bit of a smirk.

She gave a soft huff and would have batted his shoulder if it didn't look like it would cause him pain. "I brought you some blankets. I called Don and he's coming over to have a look."

"You shouldn't have… I'm fine." He muttered back, trying to scoot himself over into a more comfortable sleeping position.

"Would you rather I called the hospital?" she retorted lightly, watching as his eyes fluttered open for a second.

Casey even gave the effort to shake his head before lying back down. "No. I already ran away from the scene. I probably should have gone, but I panicked."

April sighed a bit and brushed his head back away from his face. "Then you don't have a choice, Mister Jones. I'm picking up Don and you're not complaining."

"Oooh, the Babe is getting sassy with me." The words lacked his usual playful luster, but it was an attempt. April tapped his shoulder lightly in protest. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."

"You had better not." She murmured, placing a second blanket over him and going to close the downstairs windows before she left. Just before she got to the door she heard a soft plea.

"Hey…Don's OK, but no, Raph… please?" Casey had struggled up to a sitting position, his brows knit together.

The redhead swallowed finding her mouth dry. "Raphael will want to be here, Casey… he's your best friend."

Slowly the young man gave a nod. "I know… that's exactly why I don't want him here."

She shook her head at him. "I can't promise anything, but I'll try."

"I know you will, Babe." He offered a slight smile before fading off into a fitful sleep as April closed the door.


	3. Distress

xXx

**Distress**

_because we cannot help but worry for a friend in need_

xXx

"Bull. Shit. Donnie… there is no way you are leaving me behind." Raphael was hot on the heels of his brother as the latter ran through the sewers, his face fixed forward. It wasn't until they both came to a ledge and Donatello had climbed up to the higher level that he turned around to face Raphael. "Don't gimmie this bullshit that Splinter says it's too dangerous for us both to go because we might be spotted. April's van fits one as well as it fits four of us."

The corners of Don's eyes pulled together a bit, realizing that Raph had just stolen his excuse right out from under him. It reminded him again that the surly turtle was far more perceptive than the family usually gave him credit for. He opened his beak and then shut it again.

"What? Afraid 'big stupid Raphie' can't take the truth?" the brown eyes were clouded behind the red mask reflecting a softness the bitterly sarcastic words did not betray.

"No." Don's voice was simple. "I am not afraid." He took in a short breath, noting that despite the tension rippling through the muscled body below him, his brother made no move to strike. "Nor do I consider you stupid. Don't put words in my mouth, Raph."

Raphael clenched his fists, pacing slightly. He didn't like the standoff, but it was better than chasing Don through the sewers, watching the tails of his bandana disappear around corners. "Then why the hell won't you let me come?"

Donatello constrained the small sigh he had, and paused before he let the truth dribble out. "April said only I should come. She said Casey didn't want anyone else."

"She's lying." He shot back immediately, without even thinking of the words.

"Is April really the type to lie, Raph?" his brother countered quietly.

The darker turtle let that sink in and turned suddenly, putting a fist into an old steel ladder, leaving a notable dent in one side. It made a sharp crack which echoed morosely across the sewer before he finally took in a breath. Above him Donatello shook his head.

"Breaking your knuckles won't make the situation any better." He reasoned calmly.

Raphael shook his smarting fingers out and swallowed once before speaking. "If Casey's in trouble, I should be there for him." His voice was thick and heavy. "There isn't any reason to stay back. What good can I do in the lair?" He took to pacing again for a few second before adding gruffly, "I'm his best friend – doesn't he know that?"

Don crouched down for a second, trying to catch his brother face to face. "Did it ever occur to you that the reason why he doesn't want to see you is exactly because you're his best friend?"

"Best friends should stick together, no matter what." Raphael reasoned back, the anger in his voice abating slowly, like sand being washed out to sea.

The leaner turtle gave a pause, his eyes were sympathetic. "But Casey values what you think of his strength and his skills more than what anyone else thinks, even April. He holds your abilities in high esteem, and in return, the last thing he wants is for you to think of him as weak…"

"I would never think of him as weak. I have seen Casey take down foot ninjas with panache. Someone must've played some dirty trickery to get one up on him." Raphael interrupted, throwing his hands in the air.

"That's not the point." Donatello persuaded gently. "Casey respects you, Raph. And just like you like to hide away when something is wrong because you don't want to seem weakened, he doesn't want to show himself to the person he thinks of as being the strongest."

"I wouldn't come to judge him." There was a note of earnest clarity in the terrapin's voice.

"I know." His brother's tone was barely above a whisper. He felt his body sag as his brother turned away, walking back down the sewer tunnel he had just come from. "Raphael…?" Don called before he got too far.

Slowly the red banded turtle turned, his eyes creased with worry. He stood there for a long pause before he spoke. "Tell him… tell him I want to see him. Not to worry, I just wanna see him." He paused and gave a lopsided smile. "I'll even bring over a beer and tell him some bad jokes if it'll help."

Donatello gave a slight, reassuring smile. "I'll tell him, Raph. And I'll call you, OK?"

Raphael gave a grunt before turning again and heading back towards home.

xXx

"Ugh." April waved a hand in front of her face as she picked a bag of slimy brown ooze - what was once presumably lettuce from the very bottom of the crisper. Wrinkling her nose she tossed it into the garbage can and went back to sifting through rotting vegetables and half empty condiments in search of real food. "Doesn't this man ever eat?" she wondered lightly to herself.

"If he's anything like my brothers – with the exception of Mikey – he'd subsist on cereal and hot dogs if you didn't feed him." Don murmured halfway across the shabby apartment.

She shook her head, depositing a moldy tin of sour cream into the bin. "If this fridge is any evidence, I'd say Mr. Jones exists on a steady diet of processed cheesefood and spicy relish."

Donatello looked up and offered April a small smile before speaking. "Unfortunately I think Casey's diet is the least of his worries at the moment." He wasn't sure of how dire that sounded until he saw April's jaw drop and the teenage turtle swallowed dryly. "I'm sorry; it's not that bad April."

Mechanically picking out a few edible foodstuffs from the refrigerator, April bit the inside of her cheek to swallow the worst of her fear. "How bad is it, Donnie? I mean… really…" she trailed off slowly, watching the terrapin keenly.

Pulling a stethoscope off from around his neck Don sighed. "Honestly he should go to the hospital, but when he woke up for that little bit he tried to get up off the couch and run away from me when I suggested going to the emergency room. He thinks he'll be arrested if he goes." He knit his brow ridges together slightly, wondering if Casey realized how lucky he was to even have the option of going to a hospital in the first place. "So I'm stuck with what I can do for him here. Beyond the obvious multiple lacerations and contusions, I think he suffered several minor fractures. I don't have an X-ray machine, so I can't confirm it, but my best guess is that he has one, probably two cracked ribs, obviously a broken nose and a mild concussion. I can't hear anything from his breathing that suggests he has a punctured lung, but if he doesn't stay put in bed there is a very good chance he could give himself one." He paused and looked over at April. "If that happens, he won't have a choice – he'll have to go to the hospital, no matter how much he doesn't want to."

She looked at the floor as she stood, dumping the food off on the grimy counter. "So… what now?"

"Well, I'll take him upstairs to his bed. This couch is a spinal disaster waiting to happen. And hopefully when he wakes up he'll be willing to do what the doctor orders." He stood, placing his things in a duffle bag. "But someone should stay here tonight and watch him. Even a mild head injury scares me."

"You're not the only one." April muttered.

xXx

As Donatello moved Casey upstairs, April did her best to cobble together something that resembled an edible dinner. She found, to her disgust, that Casey's kitchen resembled a scientific battleground where various types of mold fought one another for supremacy on the counter. Don found her a half hour later sitting on the rickety vinyl covered dining chairs amidst the smell of macaroni, cheese and wiener casserole mingling with a heady dose of Lysol.

"It smells like a hospital in here." The teenage turtle murmured, taking a seat across from her.

The redhead grimaced, looking up. "I felt it was better to work with food on a sterilized surface rather than a green counter-carpet." He leaned back cautiously in the chair, feeling the legs wobble underneath her. "How's he doing?"

"Sleeping quietly for now" Don murmured, reaching over to grab a glass of water. "I'll stay up with him for as long as I can."

"Can I help?" She knit her brows a bit. "I could at least call the guys."

He waved a green hand in the air across the table. "I already called them. I said I'd be staying here tonight and I'd call them in the morning." He paused, raising his gaze up towards the young woman. "I know you want to help, April, but you should sleep first."

She chewed her bottom lip for a second. "Leo could help keep watch…" she suggested softly. Donatello shook his head all too quickly no.

"I can't do that. Not to him, not to them." He sucked a soft breath through his teeth and downed most of the water in the glass before continuing. "Casey has been awake twice and both times he remembered to mention that he doesn't want Raph here." He paused, looking back up at April. "I can't be the one to call the lair and ask Raph to stay back while Leo and Mike take turns helping out his best friend. I can't do that to him. And I can't do that to them, either. You know what sort of resentment it'll cause." He shook his head a little. "So to preserve what little peace I can, I'll be the one who stays. I told them it was a medically delicate situation, and that as soon as he was more stable they could all come over."

The antiques dealer swallowed a bit, looking up at the jagged brown water stains on the ceiling. "Well, if we're going to be here awhile, I guess it's a good thing, then, that I made dinner."

xXx

Casey sat up, sucking in a short breath to gauge the pain in his chest. To his surprise the pain had died to a dull throb, like a misty sensation lingering at the edges of his body. The room was dark and quiet, wind blowing through window of his room, rustling the shabby, faded curtains.

Swinging his feet very slowly to the edge of the bed, he squinted in the darkness, wondering how long he had been sleeping. His mouth felt fuzzy, and he was rather anxious to brush his teeth. He groped in the darkness for a robe and tossed it over his shoulders before attempting to stand.

It went better than expected, putting his hands on his bed stand and pushing himself to his feet. He took another breath and pulled himself forward towards the door. He paused with his hand on the knob, hazily remembering voices. April? Donatello? He wondered if they were still there.

Leaning on the doorknob as he pushed it open, he called out their names in a dry, raspy voice, waiting for a response that never came. Slowly Casey frowned. He could see the light on in the kitchen; even smell the lingering scent of cooking. "Are you guys here?"

Silence.

Slowly brushing his teeth didn't seem so important anymore as he veered away from the upstairs hallway and back towards the steep stairs. He stared down them like they were a sheer drop off; swallowing back the hard lump of apprehension he had in his throat. His legs shook a little and he tried very hard to wipe the image of rolling down the little carpet-covered ledges should he make a misstep.

And so he chose to edge down sideways, both hands gripping the railing like a vise. He rather hoped that April or Don was not, in fact, waiting down there for him because his descent from the second floor was anything but graceful or manly. When he finally set his feet on the ground floor he put a hand up to shade his eye from the glare in the kitchen. Slowly he could make out a form within. "April?" he called again.

Wrong. Casey felt his jaw drop open as the smell hit him before the heavy face appeared in the light. Fetid fish-breath himself. Fish-breath pushed a shag of dark brown hair that was dyed a brilliant blond at the tips and stared Casey down as he spoke. "What the hell are you doing here?" his words sounded gravelly.

The Purple dragon smiled slowly, wrinkles pulling at the sides of his eyes. "I got'cher girl" he hissed.

Casey's eyes went wide as he groped for the nearest thing that could be considered a weapon, coming up with a big glass 'monster margarita' glass. He could hear the few sets of keys that had been nestled in it go flying across the room and land somewhere behind the couch. "April…" he gasped.

Fish-breath indulged in a mocking laugh as he pulled April into view. Her hands were tied with a kitchen towel, a greasy rag stuck in her mouth and Casey lunged forward brandishing Monster Margarita like a baseball bat. Despite the lingering pain in his legs he pushed off the carpet stretching his arms through the doorway in enough time to get a good swing – an uppercut, the bowl of the glass headed directly for Fish-Breath's chin.

He knew the strike was good, waited for the glass to shatter in his hands. The fire of hatred burned through his cheeks up to his temples, and all he hoped for was that there be enough for the stem left to use as a glass stiletto.

And yet the bowl hit nothing but air. Casey's feet caught on the carpet, reaching for an assailant who was no longer there and found nothing to stop his forward momentum, either. He dropped the margarita glass, which shattered on the linoleum, his palms slapping down into the shrapnel seconds later. White stars flashed across his vision as his chest hit the threshold of the kitchen door. He pulled his bleeding hands away from the shattered glass, and rolled to the side. Drawing his knees to his chest, his body was wracked with coughs, bloody phlegm draining from the side of his mouth. For a second he wondered if Fish-Breath was really there or if he had dreamt it.

"I got'cher girl… I got'cher girl!" The voice was taunting and singsong. Casey winced and groped for purchase on the doorframe in order to haul himself up. He wondered how in the hell anything that heavyset could move as fast as Fish-Breath. Not even Raph could have completely dodged his strike. Blocked, sure, but to simply disappear? And yet when he opened his eyes there was the punk with his gleaming blonde tips, grinning at him.

"You can't have her." Casey growled, trying to drag himself to his knees. To his utter dismay he felt hands grab the back of his robe and yank him roughly to his feet.

Fish-Breath shook his head, and made a sweeping gesture with his hands, the sort that accompanied a taunt. His eyes were dark and sober, and yet when he opened his mouth the same unnatural sing-song voice came out "I got'cher girl! I got'cher girl! I got'cher girl!"

Casey blinked and worked an arm free, sending an elbow to whoever held him. It impacted with the fleshy part of the cheekbone, spinning whoever held him down to the side. The young vigilante was unwilling to use his fists with shards of glass still embedded in them, so he went for a lower elbow and as his attacked doubled over he smashed the back of his head into the guy's nose. He expected to be let loose, and yet the hands still wrapped around his body. "What the hell?" The words finally straggled out of his mouth as he again planted an elbow to the chest.

Whoever held him spun him about, grabbing the front of his robe like a harness as he came to a stop face to face. Dark hair, dyed to a brilliant blonde at the tips, a hard bulldog-like face with a long square chin, sneering grin, one gold tooth and a large ruby class ring. Fetid rotting fish breath washed over him. Casey's jaw dropped. "How…"

"You don't get to help, vigilante. You just have to watch." Fish-Breath sneered.

Casey sucked in a very long, shattered breath, slamming his eyes shut before opening them. None of it made sense. If he opened his eyes again it had to go away. But as he pried the lids back open, sound poured back in to his mind as well as light.

"I got'cher girl!"

"You don't get to help…"

Bathed in the sputtering yellow light from the bare bulb above the kitchen Fish-Breath ripped off April's blouse. Casey blinked and his jaw dropped as he struggled to move. Behind him Fish Breath held his arms in a solid lock, and beside him Fish-Breath punched him in the side every time he looked away.

"I got'cher girl! I got'cher girl!" April chewed at the greasy rag, her voice coming out in muffled screams. Casey couldn't even be sure if it was April anymore, she had red hair, but the same clothing as the young college student. It didn't stop him from trying to haul himself forward in the least. "You don't get to help…" Fish-Breath tore off her skirt, wrapping the meaty hand with the class ring around April's throat. Every time she scream he would squeeze, until her struggles grew a little less vehement. It gave him enough time to unzip his pants at his leisure.

"No!" The word tore itself from Casey's throat like a guttural roar. "No! No! No!"

"I got'cher girl! I got'cher girl! I got'cher girl!"

Despite the glass embedded in his hands, he balled them into fists and pounded them on the steel arms that held him in place, until blood ran down the matted armhair in tiny rivers. Fish-Breath took his time, pinning April to the kitchen table before he had his enjoyment and still Casey couldn't move. Pinned, trapped, he spat blood on the Fish-Breath beside him and earned a punch in the ribs for his troubles. "I got'cher girl! I got'cher girl!"

Clawing one hand free, he reached out into the sickly yellow light of the kitchen, screaming so loudly that his throat felt raw

"No!"

xXx

"No!" Consciousness smashed into Casey's brain like a derailed freight train. He jerked upwards, rising up not more than two inches from the bed before searing pain ran down his chest. A second later he felt two hands press gently down on his shoulders lowering him back on the bed. Frenzied, he tried to lash out, sending an ineffective punch into a strong green arm.

"Calm down!" It was almost an order, albeit a very controlled and rational one. "Casey, it's just me. It's Don."

Eyes wide, Casey Jones looked frantically around the room. The kitchen was gone. He didn't know how he got out of it, but he wasn't there anymore. He thought he heard Donatello, but at the moment he didn't see Donatello. He was looking at the corners of the room, watching them slowly collapse down on him, like the crushing grip he couldn't escape. "No!" he hissed again. "No!" His hands no longer threw punches but flailed upwards as if reaching out for something or someone. "No!" he repeated, this time like a whimper – a plea. "No…"

Don bit his bottom lip. He kept one hand down on Casey's chest to prevent him from sitting up, grasping the flailing arm with his free hand. Gently he wrapped his fingers around Casey's wrist and guided the arm back to his chest. "Casey… " he prodded quietly.

The young man blinked, beads of sweat standing out form his forehead. Slowly his eyes went from deliriously foggy to semi-focused. "… Don?" he asked faintly recognizing the blurry green form.

"Yes, Casey. It's me. Don." His voice was even and reassuring.

Booth hands went up to the free green arm, and Casey clung to the teenage turtle as if he was a lifeline. "April. Don… where's April?"

"April is downstairs on the couch, Case."

A pained look crossed his face. "Is she alright?"

Confusion clouded Donatello's glance. "She's fine, Casey. She's sleeping."

His eyes dashed about the corners of the room again. "Where am I, Don?"

Donatello took in a short breath. His voice returned rich and steady. "You're in your bedroom, Casey. April is right downstairs. I can get her for you if you want."

"No!" The reply was fast and furious, his cheeks burning red with shame. "No… I don't…" he swallowed, "she…" finally he shut his eyes, opened then and tried again. "Let her sleep, OK?" Both hands fell limply back to the bed.

The turtle gave a nod and slowly released his pin on the injured man. "Are you alright, Casey?"

He looked up suddenly. The look in his dark eyes keenly said that things were not alright, but his voice was clouded and stubborn. "I'm fine."

Don gave a soft sigh, sitting back in the chair he had pulled up by the bed. "Casey, if you're having trouble sleeping I can give you a sedative. You can't be waking up and trying to sit with cracked ribs."

"I don't need a sedative." Casey replied with a slight hard tone to his voice. "I'm fine now."

Keen eyes looked down at him from behind the purple bandana. "All right…if you say so. But if you go trying to sit up again, I will tie you to the bed, Mr. Jones."

Casey furrowed his brow at the young turtle. "Are you serious?"

Donatello watched him for a second with a firm expression. "Trust me, after the first time I saw one of my brothers try to tear stitches out in a fit of delirium, I figured out the best way to keep them safely immobile until they healed." He let that sink in for a few seconds before adding with a hint of pride at his cleverness. "You would be surprised what you can do with the seatbelts from a '57 Chevy."

"I didn't know you were into bondage, Don." Casey attempted a smirk with his retort, but it felt weak. Don watched him with a fond expression, one that said he had a comeback, but he wouldn't push the battle of wits at the moment. Casey gave a grateful little sigh.

"You should rest more. I can get you some water if you need it." The terrapin murmured.

The young man shook his head slightly. "No." He cast one last glance around the room before looking back to Donatello. He waited before he spoke again, using a soft tone, as if he was denying the fact he needed something. "But could you… open the windows for me?"

Don stood, watching him for a few seconds before giving a nod. "Sure Casey."

Don let his brow furrow in concern, trying to piece together an answer from the strange outburst. Beside him Casey Jones laid his head back against the pillow and finally relaxed as a cool breeze blew across the room.

xXx


	4. Desolation

xXx

**Desolation**

_because we love them, we push them away_

xXx

"Hey, how are you feeling?" The words were soft and feather light, coaxing him back to consciousness.

Slowly Casey Jones opened his eyes, squinting at the haze of sunlight filtering through the curtains. His tongue darted out, he wet his lips and rolled the words around in his mouth a bit before actually speaking. "Do you really want to know?"

April smiled a bit. Her hair was piled up on top of her head and she smelled like his body wash. Under a different situation Casey would have found that undeniably attractive. "Well, I asked, didn't I?" she chuckled lightly,

He gave a short sigh. "Well, the truth is, April, I feel like ass."

"Well, that's eloquent" She said with a hint of a smile.

"Hey, babe… you asked." He chided, struggling to sit up. Just as fast April put a steady hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down.

"No sitting. Don gave me two orders for you to follow and the first one was no sitting up yet." She grabbed a few extra pillows to prop his head up before messing with a tray sitting on the bed stand.

Casey groaned lightly, but didn't complain too much. His overzealous run through the house two nights ago has ensured that he was greeted by a steady throbbing ache every time he woke up. "Dare I ask what the second ultimatum was?"

"That you drink this." She replied with a smirk, pushing a large glass of something thick and frothy with a straw stuck in the middle into his hands. Casey sniffed it a bit, before making a face. April furrowed her brow. "What's wrong?"

"What is this stuff? It smells like baby formula," he wrinkled his nose as he spoke.

The antiques dealer gave a small sigh. "Vanilla flavored protein shake. It tasted fine, I had some."

Still not willing to drink quite yet, Casey perked a brow. "Isn't that the stuff they give old ladies in the rest home?"

"Why yes, in fact it is." She smirked, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "If it's good for them, it must be good for you."

"I'm not an old lady." He groused, taking a sip nonetheless. He made a face, more for show than anything else, not wanting to admit that April was right – it did taste pretty decent.

She chuckled and picked up the can, reading the label. "Recommended for mature adults, pregnant or nursing women and vigilantes too stubborn to go to the hospital."

"It does not say that! Gimmie that!" He reached out to snag it from her, finding that she clearly had the upper hand in this fight. With the can held over her head in a mockery of keep-away she smirked down at him.

"Drink your Ensure, Casey, and then you can read the can."

Casey Jones grumbled wordlessly and gave her a grumpy pout before consenting to drink.

She paused and watched him to make sure he finished his glass. "How do you know what baby formula smells like anyways?"

"What - shocked and appalled that someone let Casey Jones around their delicate little baby?" He waggled his brows at her, finishing of the shake and going for the glass of water she had hidden on the tray.

"Hardly." She rolled her eyes a bit. "Just surprised. I didn't know you knew anyone with a baby."

He paused and gave April an imperious glare, taking his time drinking the water. "I'll have you know, Sweetcheeks, that the Jones' clan is far reaching and close knit. My cousin happened to have a baby three years ago."

She raised her brows in interest. "I never knew you had cousins you kept in touch with."

"Yeah, three of them. But Jenna is the only one who stayed in the city. She married an architect, so I don't get to see her much anymore." He hid a momentary grimace behind the glass of water. "I'm a little lowbrow for her husband."

April bit her bottom lip for a second. "I'm sorry, Casey."

Turning away, the vigilante let a dark glower ripple through his expression. "The last thing I need is anyone feeling sorry for me."

The redhead perked a brow and shook her head a little. "I wasn't going to try to turn that into a pity party, Casey. But I have seen the look you get when we face rich clients."

"And just what look is that?" he kept his eyes turned stubbornly towards the window.

She sighed slightly, pushing a lock of hair out of her face. "You never seen comfortable with them. You're always so … quietly defiant. As if you want them to know that you're not a part of their world and you're still proud of it."

"Well maybe I am proud of it." The vigilante turned, fixing her with a dark stare. "Half the problems in this city are caused by people who are too… comfortable. These people don't give a damn about what happens on the streets because they make enough money to drive by it and tune it out. I don't have that luxury, and frankly April I'm damn proud of what I do – both what I get paid for and what I don't"

She blinked a bit, pushing herself backwards. "I never said that I disrespected what you did." April put her hands up as if to calm and deflect his onslaught.

But Casey didn't feel in the mood to be pacified. Ripples of red-hot anger bubbled below his skin, rising with the beads of sweat on his brow. Anger that stemmed from feeling helpless for too long, a barrier of defensive aggression growing from a desire to hide his anguish and bury his fear. He turned towards April, pain settling into his chest where his broken ribs complained, and he focused his brown eyes on his unintended victim. "Look. I know you tolerate what I do. I heard you say 'an honest days work' is fine in your book, and it is fine in mine. In my days I get the job done, and in my nights I crack open a beer and enjoy myself. But let's face it, Babe… I have seen the look you get when I go out at night." He paused, catching his breath as he threw her words back at her. "You have never liked what I do on the streets. You think it's irrational and immature – like I am some kind of overgrown teenaged joy-rider who's doing this for a rush. A kick. A lark. Well, screw that, April. I don't play vigilante because I need an adrenaline rush. I do what I do because no one else gives a damn." His voice took on a tight, impassioned tone. "Don't tell me that 'the cops can do it – it's their job' because you and I both know damn well that the only places that have enough cops to do what they are supposed to are places that a rich enough to not need any." A flicker of pain ran through his eyes, even as his voice hardened to a crisp, mocking timbre. "Did you ever think that I am the only one protecting these streets for people like you?"

"I know you mean well." Her tone was confused and cautious. As she paused, searching for the right words to abate his anger he interrupted and plowed forward again.

"Mean well? Damn it, April. I do well. I do things for you, and every other ungrateful bastard out there who doesn't realize how lucky they are when they make it to their car safely without being mugged. Well, maybe for a few days they'll understand why I am out there because last night and tonight and tomorrow night there will be no Casey Jones patrolling the streets. He's laid up, and being nagged at to grow up and stop throwing his life away trying to help others."

April's next words were sharp and cross. "I did not say that. Don't put words in my mouth." Sighing, she stood, lingering by the bed. "You know, I appreciate what you do, Casey. But you're not the guardian angel of the city streets. You can't be – it's a big city and you are only one man. Maybe you should consider your limitations before accusing me of how much I do or do not respect you."

Casey grunted, indignantly, and bit his upper lip. He was unwilling to admit how much the words stung; and they stung because they were true. "I know my limitations." The words dribbled out as stubborn benchmarks of his wounded pride.

"If you knew your limitations, why did you end up with a concussion and some cracked ribs?" She folded her arms across her chest, growing increasingly frustrated with this conversation.

"Dammit, April. I'm not the fucking bad guy here." He turned to her, his brow creasing in pain as anger bubbled out from his throat.

"No, but you're acting like a jerk." She replied bluntly. "Casey, I'm not going to stand here and listen to you berate me just because I said I felt bad for what happened. If you have something you want to talk about, I'll listen; but I'm not listening to you rail against everything in your path for no good reason."

He blinked, dark hair falling in his face as the antiques dealer patiently waited for a response. Casey bit his lip and finally muttered, "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Fine." She picked up the tray, leaving the water. "Don will be up in an hour or so to check on you. Yell if you change your mind." She didn't quite slam the door behind her, but she came very close.

Slowly the vigilante laid his head back on the pillow and sighed, cursing himself.

It turned out to be a long day of staring at the ceiling.

xXx

It was several hours after dark when he heard voices congregate in the bottom of his apartment. The walls being as flimsy, they allowed easy eavesdropping. April must have gone shopping and gotten pizza for herself as well as soft foods for him. Cream of Wheat – yummy. He tensed hearing the additional voices. Michelangelo, and Leonardo, and then, softer than usual but unmistakable, Raphael.

"Please, no." Casey whispered to the darkness and closed his eyes, pretending to sleep as April walked up the stairs. He could hear Don cautioning his brothers to not get him worked up, and to not crowd around the bed. It made Casey feel disgustingly like a cross between a caged animal and an invalid.

The light switch clicked with an ominous pop, filling the room with an invasive yellow light. "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty… supper has arrived… and guests." April was keeping her voice light and detached after the morning fight. She frowned as Casey kept his eyes closed, lying perfectly still. "Albert Casey Jones," she snapped the words through the air, "I know you're not asleep. You aren't nearly as quiet when you sleep.

"I don't want guests." He mumbled while keeping his eyes closed.

April sighed a little. Why did this man have to be so obstinate? "Let the guys come say hi. They just want to see that you're OK"

Slowly Casey opened one eye at a time. "I'm tired, babe…" he sounded both pleading and pitiful.

"I know. Just a little visit. They won't be here long, I promise." She smiled reassuringly. Casey let his head sink back down into the pillow, getting a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn't want to be seen like this. If he had his choice, he would crawl away, alone, curl up and wait this whole terrible ordeal out. Yet he turned towards the door and forced a smile as Michelangelo bounded inside, followed by Leonardo and finally Raphael.

"Hey dude!" The youngest turtle offered a warm, charismatic grin to the bedridden man. Very slowly Casey responded in kind. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Heya Mikey." He gave a nod, scooting upwards. "Leo, Raph…"

Michelangelo knelt down by the bed to peer at Casey more eye to eye as Leo took a few steps forward. Raphael still lingered in the back, shifting his weight gently from side to side as if he was weighing words. "We were pretty worried when April called." Leo started in a carefully considerate tone. "How are you feeling?"

He shook his hair out of his eyes and grunted softly. "Eh, I have certainly felt better. But I think I'll be up and about as soon as my bedside nurse lets me move." He mustered a smirk at the end, indicating the absent Donatello.

"Oh, I so hear you on that one." Mike smiled, leaning closer to Casey and adding in a stage whisper, "What you have to do is remind Don you get cable here and while he's watching the Discovery Channel you can sneak out of bed." The turtle winked, his blue eyes shining.

"Too bad the floor creaks everywhere, Mike." Casey sighed lightly. "I think he might catch me."

The youngest turtle sighed melodramatically. "He catches everyone."

"Maybe because wounded people don't practice the ninja arts very well?" Leonardo murmured, with the slightest hint of a smile.

Raphael restrained his grunt of dismay as Mike rolled his eyes and needled Casey "We're still working on Leo's sense of humor" he whispered.

Slowly he forced a smile across his face. This whole recovery affair seemed more palatable with Michelangelo present. "Work harder." It prompted the younger turtle to a wave of giggles, and a short glaring contest between the elder two. Slowly Casey relaxed as Mike led the bulk of the conversation, cracking jokes in between the stony silences that Leo and especially Raphael provided. They spoke about the pizza, they spoke about the weather. They spoke about everything expect the obvious.

Slowly the youngest grew restless and rocked onto his heels before jumping up. "So, how long you laid up for?" he asked, backing up.

Casey attempted a shrug, which drew out a wheezing cough as he moved. "If I have a choice, I'll be up by the end of the week."

"Well, I'll have to bring you some comics and games and stuff. That should help pass the time." Mike grinned as he headed for the door. His stomach was getting the better of him and he could smell the pizza downstairs. "And tell me when Don lets you eat pizza!"

He cracked a dry-lipped smile. "I will Mike." He breathed a sigh of relief as Michelangelo peeled off and Leonardo followed. Slowly Casey lifted his gaze towards the one remaining turtle.

"So what happened?" he asked, folding his arms over his plastron.

The vigilante pushed his lips tightly together. "I don't wanna talk about it."

Slowly Raphael furrowed his brow. "You know… I can help you find these punks. Show them what an honorable fight means."

"Honorable fight? What the hell are you talking about?" Casey gritted his teeth a bit, feeling anger rise up behind his temples. He pressed his thumbs along his cheekbones, fingers at the sides of his eyes trying to alleviate the growing tension. He very much did not want to get mad at Raph.

The red banded terrapin gave a low growl. "I'm talking about this" he gestured at the bed. "I don't care who they were, I know you, Casey. Punks don't take you down unless they are playing with a very unfair ace in the hole. I can't stand for that."

"This is my fight, Raph, stay out of it." He wanted to sound authoritative, but ended up just sounding tired.

The turtle shook his head. "No way. You're family. No one messes with my family."

The vigilante could feel his cheek burn red. "I don't need help."

"I don't get you, Casey. You and I, busting heads, righting the wrongs on the streets… what the hell is so different about it now?"

Nothing seemed able to stem the tide of the massive headache knocking on Casey's brain. "Look, Raph… that fight was just a mistake. One big, fucked up mistake. I tried to help, and failed, OK? The last thing I want to do is wallow in what went wrong." He blinked, trying to focus. The walls seemed far too close for comfort.

"Dammit, I ain't telling you that you did anything wrong!" Raphael threw both of his hands up in the air, his voice growing snappish. "Hell, you tell me what they looked like, and I'll go find them and truss them up for you like a Christmas present if you like. Just let me help punish these bastards!"

"No!" The word roared forth from Casey's mouth so violently that flecks of spit spattered across his chin. "Raph, dammit, get it through your head that I don't want help. This is my own damn problem, not yours!"

Slowly the teenager's eyes widened, not believing what he heard. He tried to rouse his anger to his defense, but the only word that dribbled from his beak sounded lonely and lifeless. "Why…?"

The vigilante let out a slow, agonized breath. The faces of the street punks hung in his vision like mocking reminders of his helplessness. In truth he was afraid to face them, afraid of what they reminded him of. And fear was the last thing he ever wanted to admit to Raph. "I… Raph… I don't know what to say."

"I don't want you to say anything." The terrapin replied bitterly, turning away. "You don't want my help so I don't need to be here."

"Raphael…" Casey's voice was pleading, wishing that the red clad ninja might turn and let him explain, but the door slammed morosely behind him. It left the wounded man lying in the bed, surrounded by a gush of silence. The walls threatened to loom closer as he closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip so hard it bled.

As he cursed himself inwardly he could hear heated voiced, Raphael's first, then Leonardo's and then the slam of his front door, Leonardo's again and finally April's. Another slam of the front door and he could hear footsteps ascending the stairs.

"Dammit Casey, why did you do that?" April's voice was hot and frustrated as she stormed into the room.

Casey pushed his palms into his temples, trying to fight back the pain. "Look, I don't wanna talk about it."

"Raph was trying to help you." She protested

Dark eyes snapped forward, locking April's gaze. "And I said… I don't want to talk to Raph right now. Why the hell can't anyone understand that? I don't wanna talk to Raph; I don't wanna talk to you… I don't want to talk to anyone right now, so why can't you just leave me the hell alone?"

Her jaw dropped momentarily before her own anger set in. "Fine. If that's what you want, then that's what you get. Goodnight, Casey." She turned and slammed the door behind her.

He could hear her arguing with the teenage brothers before his front door opened and slammed. Silence sunk into the room once again.

xXx

It was late by the time Donatello had dislodged himself from his talk with his brothers, and he walked up the narrow staircase like a turtle on a mission. He found Casey with his head turned, staring out of the window. "I thought you might be up…" he started patiently.

"I can hear the city." The young man murmured. "It's funny – like a child, you can't help but listen and worry." The anger of the day had bled away from his voice, leaving a soft cracked sound.

Don sucked in a breath and sat down at the edge of the bed. "I know how that feels. There are times you can hear echoes ringing through the sewers. It's difficult to block out." He paused, and waited for a response, biting his lower lip. When he didn't get one, he sucked in a breath, dreading the message he had to deliver. "April wanted me to pass on a sentiment."

"Did she go home?"

The teenage turtle nodded. "She wanted a decent night's sleep."

The vigilante gritted his teeth, still looking the opposite direction. He had a tone of morbid curiosity to his voice. "So… what did she say?"

Donatello frowned, speaking softly. "She said you were a stupid jerk who should learn to swallow his pride."

"Why am I not surprised?" Casey's voice sounded low and defeated as he rolled his head around to stare upwards. "I suppose I deserve that."

"Honestly… you did." Don murmured. "Both April and Raphael busted their butts to help you these past two days. April's been here almost continually; Raph went scavenging to find food, he got Mike to prepare meals for you, got your bike out of impound and even ran your rounds last night despite the fact that Leo wanted to grind his shell for it."

Guilt sank deeply into the vigilante's eyes as he slowly turned to face the terrapin. "Shit, Don… I'm sorry."

"I'm not the one you have to apologize to, Casey." He chided lightly.

Slowly the dark haired man closed his eyes. "I'm… I'm not ready to talk to them."

"You want my advice?"

"No."

Don shook a finger at his friend. "Well, too bad. I'm the one carrying your pain medication, and if you want it, you're going to get my advice first."

Slowly Casey lifted his dark brows to stare at the young turtle. "Are you blackmailing me?" He attempted to sound amused.

"Yes, in fact I am" he smirked.

"Wow… remind me never to get on your bad side."

"Casey… never get on my bad side." Donatello allowed himself a small self-indulgent smile before continuing on. "But more to the point, here's my advice. April will be coming back here in the next few days. Despite what a self righteous jerk you were to her, she still wants to see you; so I highly suggest you take the time to think up a proper apology to her." He pushed the glass of water from the bed stand over to where Casey could reach it and dug around in his medical kit for the painkillers. "Raphael is a different matter. He thinks that your behavior is telling him that the friendship he defined isn't the same as the one you defined – in short that you never thought of him as a good friend."

"But that isn't true, Don… he's damn near the best friend I have" he protested, eyes going wide.

Donatello sighed a bit. "I know that. And I tried to explain that to him – but from our point of view, we're outsiders, Casey. It is very difficult to manage a relationship with a human when you're a mutant turtle." He paused and sighed, popping the cap off of the bottle. "What I'm getting at is that I think you're going to have to find Raphael and talk to him, because I don't think I can coax him back here."

"You won't even let me sit up, how can I go after Raph?" the vigilante groused.

"You'll be walking soon enough," the terrapin paused and eyed his human companion sternly, "as long as you avoid any fighting. But you're going to have to go to Raphael yourself, suck it up and tell him the truth, Casey."

Casey Jones let out a long sigh. That was not a conversation he looked forward to. Not because of Raphael's temper – the vigilante always found ways to abate that when he wanted or needed to. It was far more because he knew that of all of the brothers Raphael was one of the most perceptive when it came to judging people's stories. He seemed to be able to spot a lie like picking a needle from a vast haystack of words. It was one very big reason Casey had wanted to push Raph away in the first place. "That isn't going to be an easy conversation," he muttered.

"Since when did Casey Jones, protector of the streets of Manhattan, take the easy road through life?" Don stared at him shrewdly

"Since he decided to beg the turtle on his bed for some painkillers." He held his hand out for the pills Don hadn't yet offered.

"Promise me, first, that you'll seriously consider taking my advice?"

Casey sighed, caught up in considering just how correct Don was. "All right, Donnie. You have my word." He paused as the turtle relinquished the pills and he popped them in his mouth. Considering for a bit as he swallowed, he turned his gaze back towards his bedside doctor. "Can I ask how a green teenager comes up with such irritatingly accurate advice?"

The terrapin smiled slightly. "I'm wiser than my years."

"That must drive your brothers nuts."

"I believe it does." Donatello stretched and stood up with a half smile across his beak, clearing off the bed stand.

The teen was almost at the door when Casey turned to him and spoke. "Hey Don…?"

"Yeah, Casey?"

"Um… thanks." He pushed a shag of black hair away from his face. "For, you know… being the only one left who's willing to deal with Casey-the-asshole."

Donatello chuckled a bit, his mind flashing to all the times his brothers had been just as difficult to deal with. "No worries." He gave a slight smile before turning out the light.

xXx


	5. Demons

xXx

**Demons**

_because there is always something to haunt us_

xXx

It was only three days later, but for Casey Jones it had felt like an eternity. He lay in his bed, listening to the muddled sounds of a late night talk show filter up through the floor and mingle with the morose sound of rain hitting the fire escape outside of the window. He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep for several very long moments before rolling slowly to one side. It was his current version of restlessness – testing the limits of his mobility before the pain crept back in. At least Don let him walk around now, so things didn't feel quite so claustrophobic; but heavy rest was still encouraged. Or enforced.

He opened his eyes again, staring off into the darkness and imagining them posting guards by his room to ensure his co-operation. April had even threatened to install one of those baby monitors in his room so she could listen and make sure he wasn't trying to get out of bed and leave. Casey had rolled his eyes at her. Where would he go? Patrolling the city lost its luster when cracked ribs were involved. White streaks of light rolled across the ceiling as a car drove down the alleyway, and he let out a long sigh. Even if he couldn't roam the city he would have enjoyed hearing what was going on in his convalescence; but Raphael hadn't visited since their argument. The vigilante knew full well that if he looked at April and requested the phone so he could call his partner in vigilance she would graciously grant his wish; but even after three days of dwelling on it Casey hadn't figured out what he could possibly say to explain himself.

He had been feeling the creeping effects of exhaustion for the past several days, and yet every time he laid down to sleep it never seemed to come. And when it did, it was plagued by dreams of things he did not want to relive. He had left the downstairs conversation early, in the vain hopes that tonight might be the night to break the cycle and get some decent rest, but there was no such luck. He gave a second long sigh, hoping that it might induce a yawn and the concurrent sleep, and rolled towards the window. The rain had streaked down the glass, distorting the view outside, and as Casey tried to settle his body he watched the shadow of a man flit past the opposite balcony.

His breath caught in his throat and he jerked his head upright, ignoring the momentary jolt of pain through his chest. His eyes widened as if his pupils could dilate on command and suck up more light. Did he just see a person outside his room?

He let his shoulders rest back against the pillows while still keeping his head up. Wishful thinking said it might be Raph coming to visit him. Common sense said that with the rain it could have been anything from a cat to a piece of garbage being tossed by the wind distorted through the wet glass. But paranoia gnawed at the pit of his gut and played into his dreams. Flashbacks of dragons stalking him for revenge and attacking April while he was injured and unable to aid her ran like a nightmare track through his brain. He blinked again and focused on the window.

The rain spattered against the glass in a slow, relentless march, emphasized by the guttering flicker of the amber street light at one end. Casey took in a breath of relief. There was nothing there. He let the air out though his teeth and slowly rested his head on the pillow. Tension draining away, he let his eyelids droop until the light was only a thin slit in his vision and took one last breath to wash away his fears. It was when he let it back out that he saw the eyes.

Again his head jerked upwards, his own eyes snapping open. He thought he had caught a hint of movement by the window- someone peering inside and then ducking away. Casey blinked, his breaths getting quick and shallow once again. "Who's there?" he called, crossing his fingers that his wishful thinking might be fulfilled. "Raph… is that you?"

The only audible answer was the drops smacking against the pane. Casey held his breath to listen; the slow creak of the fire escape swaying in the storm did little to increase his comfort with the situation. He knew that Raphael may be a ninja, but he wasn't the sort to ignore a direct call-out. Casey didn't like the options that were left. Gingerly he pushed himself up to a sitting position to get a better look through the window. Still nothing clear revealed itself in the haze of rain, even as the vigilante strained forward. "This is no damn good." He growled the words under his breath. "No damn good at all."

It went past idle curiosity, down to nagging fear that someone might attack the people he held most dear – the ones he worked so hard to protect from his nightly excursions. Don's orders be damned. He hauled himself to his feet, telling himself that whether for his own peace of mind or the safety of his loved ones he had to go check it out. Ignoring the dull protest of pain from his chest he tossed off the bedsheets and worked his way over to the window, catching blurry movement below. He swore under his breath and threw the glass and screen aside, sticking his head out into the cold rain. The ringing thump of heels on the fire escape rang out and stopped as Casey swung his head around and down. He squinted in the darkness trying to make out the form he had heard, but he could only see ripples in the fog that clung to the alleyway. He listened to his own heart beating in his ears, felt the icy rain drip down his skull. With a huff he pulled his head back inside only to hear the motion again. He grimaced and stuck his head back out, stretching his arm over to the dresser and feeling around for a makeshift weapon.

As his fingers locked around the cane Donatello had brought him he gritted his teeth together. He knew this was going to hurt and yet the pain seemed immaterial to finding out what was going on. He sucked in a breath and bent down, haltingly slipping his body out of the window. As his feet hit the grate of the fire escape he could feel the entire thing wobble. The form below him slipped off the side and hung over the edge, dropping to the ground. "Hey!" Casey called, trying to catch a glimpse of the person in the night, brandishing his cane like a bat. But whomever it was they were dressed in dark colors and blended into the shadows of the alleyway. The form hit the ground and took off running, scaling the chain link fence at the back of the alleyway in seconds. Casey frowned at the lithe, likely teenaged build and knew that even at full strength he would have a challenge keeping up, and in his current condition he didn't have a prayer.

"Damn it!" He spat into the rain, hitting his palm into the soaked railing of the fire escape. He stood out on the rickety metal grate for several minutes more, eyes scanning the alleyway for any signs of others, until he saw none and was soaked to the bone and utterly chilled. Letting out a sigh, he noted with deep dismay that his breath was condensing into a morose little white cloud. He was sure Donatello would give him hell for this venture. Slowly he dropped down and slunk inside the window, shivering as he stood in the dark. Water dripped down his body in little rivulets forming vaguely foot-shaped puddles as he tiptoed across the room. Grunting, he realized that all of his towels were outside in the closet beside the bathroom. Digging through his drawers he pulled out a few old T-shirts and figured they would have to suffice.

In the waning yellow glow from the streetlight at the head of the alley, Casey Jones stripped down, rubbing his icy skin as quickly as possible, trying to restore circulation. Getting dressed with cracked ribs wasn't easy and the ceaseless shivering made it worse. Yet somehow he was able to tug on new pajamas, toss his sodden old ones into the back of the closet and slip into bed before anyone came to check up on him.

xXx

Donatello felt a chilly wind against his skin as soon as he entered the room, and when he spoke fog formed around his words. "Don't tell me the window is open on a night like tonight." He sighed, setting the tray of medication down on Casey's bedstand and watched with slight dismay as his patiently stirred uneasily in his sleep. The young terrapin medic wondered whether Casey's predilection to throw his windows open was a symptom of his insomnia or if the insomnia was aggravated by the cold from the open window. No matter, he could close it.

His toes curled as they hit the first wet spot on the floor and water bubbled up from the shag as he wiggled them. He furrowed his brows in confusion, hitting bigger and bigger wet spots until his foot squished down into the puddle at the window. As he slid it closed he narrowed his eyes in the thin steams of light coming from the alleyway and saw the wet trail to the closet. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to follow it, find the sodden discarded pajamas and realize that the shower hadn't been running and Casey was unlikely to dunk himself in either the toilet or bathroom sink. Donatello frowned and turned back to his lightly sleeping patient.

xXx

Casey stirred even at the click of the table lamp switch, and his eyes snapped open in a startled shock as Don touched his shoulder. He had been waking up in the same manner for days now, always looking around as if he was expecting the worst. Don sighed heavily and spoke in his calmest voice "Casey, it's just me."

He blinked a few times as the turtle cleared in his sleep-blurred vision. He still felt haggard and exhausted, and his body was still cold even under the covers. Yet he put on a nonchalant smile. "Uh, hey Don. You're my nightly caller again?"

Donatello usually gave a cursory laugh to the joke, despite it growing old, but tonight he simply poured water into a cup and turned to face the older man. "Want to tell me why you were outside tonight?"

Casey's face fell faster brick dropped from a building. "Outside? Why would you ask that?"

"Unless you went swimming in the bathtub in your pajamas and underwear, and wrung them out by the window, I can't see a better explanation as to why your floor is wet." The teenager replied in a highly scientific tone. "And I have it on good authority from my brothers that no one else was here and you were not in the bathroom."

Casey cast his eyes away from the light and his interrogator, sucking in a breath. "I didn't go anywhere. I just had to see something."

"See something? Casey, what was so important that you risked getting injured again? Crawling out the window couldn't have been easy." The voice sounded so disappointed it made Casey grimace.

"I saw something – someone outside. I wanted to see who it was." The vigilante's own voice was cracked and flustered. "I mean, I worry – what if someone's casing my joint? What if they sneak in while I'm laid up? I had to see who it was."

Don bit his lower lip. "And who was it?"

"Some kid. He ran off - I couldn't chase him. So I went back inside." He shook his head slowly.

"I hate to say this, Casey, but consider something: what if it wasn't some kid? What if it had been someone dangerous? You could have been killed. Mike and Leo were downstairs; you could have called for them. They thought you were asleep since you went up to bed early." The teenager's voice bore a heavy note of concern and chastisement.

"I had intended on going to bed. It just didn't happen." Casey shot back, feeling a deep frown burn through his expression. "And I didn't know if I was dreaming there being a person there or not – at least not until I got outside and saw him."

Donatello shook his head. "We're staying here to help you. You can call on us, Casey. Trust me. Late night cable is not that interesting, any of us would have come and checked it out."

He shook his head vehemently. "Nobody's gonna come if Casey's crying wolf because he can't see straight through a rain-soaked window. Dammit, Don! I don't know anything anymore. I just had to see. Is that so fucking bad?"

In response the young turtle thrust out a hand and slapped it against Casey's forehead. "Well, was a fever and possible hypothermia worth it?" He lowered his hand to press lightly against Casey's side, which induced a hissing wince of pain. "And re-aggravating your injury?" He shook his head. "I can't help you if you don't trust me Casey. I can leave pills by your bed stand but if you just go out and do as you please you might as well throw in your towel now. You can't fight crime like this – you'll injure yourself in a way I can't fix if you push yourself too hard."

"I wasn't trying to fight crime!" the vigilante's voice was impassioned. "And I wasn't trying to be a hero or fight windmills or any such bullshit! I was just trying to put my own mind at ease!"

Don paused for a second, taken aback. "Why didn't you ask for help?" He asked again, more quietly this time.

His patient shook his head very slowly, dark hair falling in his face. "Haven't you ever heard noises in your lair, seen shadows late at night – imagined that something was real? Haven't you ever felt the need to check it out, to make sure you're ok, that you're alone and everything's normal? Do you call your brothers every single time?"

Slowly the terrapin shook his head. "No, I suppose I don't – unless I actually found a threat."

"By the time I got out there, the kid was off and running. I had to watch. I had to see if he was just a kid, or if he was something else. Purple Dragons or Foot or something. How can I get killed by just watching?"

"Throwing stars, bullets, throwing knives, arrows, blowgun darts…" Donatello listed off mechanically.

Casey groaned, cutting him off. "All right, I get the point." He looked up, his defensive anger draining away. "I'm sorry. I… I haven't slept hardly at all these last few days and I don't want anybody thinking I'm fucking losing it."

For the first time since he sat down Don's expression softened and he put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Nobody thinks you're losing it. I mean you should have seen Leo when he broke his ankle last summer. He was grouchier than a bear for days, more snappish than a lobster, and after it stopped hurting he didn't want to use his crutches. He fell down the stairs outside our home and Raph ended up carrying him back to the lair saying he was a stubborn doofus. And he was a stubborn doofus – but we loved him all the same. And you know what? You're a stubborn doofus, too. Trust us, we understand."

"Did Leo imagine the walls were constantly falling in on him?"

Don shook his head lightly. "No, I don't think so."

"Then he's one up on me." Casey's voice was dark and dour.

"Claustrophobic?" the teenager bit his lower lip. He was rewarded with the faintest nod from his patient.

"Ever since…" Casey trailed off, his eyes not meeting Don's. "Since I was a kid," he ended abruptly. "Seeing people outside my window doesn't help any."

It was Donatello's turn to wince and he gave a slow breath. "I guess not." He paused and handed him his glass of water. "I'm sorry."

The vigilante snatched the painkillers offered and drank before looking up. "No need to be, I'm just racking up jerk points lately."

"My earlier advice still stands." The terrapin replied, watching as his friend's cheeks burned even pinker than they were before.

"I know… I'm getting around to it." Casey sighed, setting the empty glass back on the bed stand.

Don leaned back and eyed him shrewdly. "How about this? You promise me to take my advice, and I'll get you hooked up with a way to not have to worry about what's outside your apartment."

Considering this for a few moments Casey slowly nodded an assent. "Alright, deal."

"And tell me if you're still not sleeping tomorrow. Splinter has this tea he always fed us when we were sick – tasted gross, but it worked like a charm." He added with a small nod as he gathered everything up on the tray.

"That's not exactly a glowing endorsement, Don." Casey chuckled lightly.

He smiled as he stood. "Hey, if it works, it works."

Casey nodded and laid back down. "I guess so. Goodnight, Don."

"Sleep well, Casey."

xXx

Unfortunately sleep well was the last thing Casey could manage. He spent the next two days staring at the dark circles under his eyes from every reflection and spending hazy days of mindlessly talking with whoever visited him about the most boring and least controversial subjects possible, watching too many stupid movies and spending the nights tossing and turning.

Despite checking the window at regular intervals, and having Don check whenever he could spare the time, no signs of anyone else suspiciously near the building could be seen. The worry still weighed on Casey's mind, but at least he found he could now focus on recovery. Don had even given him exercise, which was the first thing in his regimen that he worked on with relish. Even simple exercises made him feel like he was making progress.

But it still didn't help with the sleep. Leo and Don had both picked up on his insomnia, though only Don knew the reasons behind it, and Splinter had agreed to dutifully mix up a batch of his special herbal sleep remedy. It hung over Casey's head like a threat: sleep or else we'll force feed you stuff to make you sleep. He sighed, and tried to remember what his grandmother used to say when he was a child and couldn't sleep. It usually involved brandy and a hot shower. He didn't have any brandy helpfully smuggled anywhere in his room, but he figured the shower couldn't do any harm. At least it would stop April from cracking jokes about him being slovenly.

xXx

He was toweling his hair dry, gingerly moving from the bathroom to the bedroom wearing nothing but a ratty old bathrobe when he heard someone clattering around on his fire escape. His breath caught in his throat for a second as he dropped the towel silently into the hamper and stretched over to grab his cane. Creeping forward, he held it like a weapon and called out very cautiously, "Hello…?"

Getting no reply he felt an unsettling lump form in the pit of his stomach. Stalking towards the window he put a hand out to lean on the frame and catch his balance before peering out and calling again, "Hello?"

"Casey?" The answer startled him almost as much as the familiar face, and he jumped back with a little yelp of distress.

"April, what the hell are you doing out there?" He just managed to get the words out before he realized he had moved far too fast and a flash of pain crossed his expression. He staggered backwards to sit heavily on the bed as she scrambled inside.

Holding a hand out to him, her face etched with worry. "Casey? Are you alright?" She started towards him before pausing, a deep blush passing across her cheeks. "You need some pants?" She added with a small smile.

"I, uh?" he started; faintly confused before realizing his attire was less than appropriate. Grabbing a sheet from the bed he tossed it over his lap and turned back to her, bashfully. "I moved too fast. I'm OK." He paused before adding, "Pants would be great."

She gave a small nod. "I'll get you some."

He watched her move, trying to keep the flush from his cheeks as well, breathing deep breaths. "Hon, why were you on my fire escape?"

She sighed, handing him some boxers and a pair of plaid pajama style pants. "I was helping Don. He needed someone not green and not injured to hang the camera."

"Camera?" Casey rolled the word around his mouth as if he didn't quite understand.

"Put your pants on and I'll explain." She chided, heading out of the room.

"Put your pants on and I'll explain." He mimicked under his breath, shaking his head as the door closed. Out of her observation range his cheek burned furiously as he got dressed. "The only worse thing could have been fighting the Purple Dragons in my bathrobe. With Raph watching," he muttered to himself. As he finished he carefully rose to his feet, leaning on the cane as he worked his way across the room. He opened the door with a tiny creak of protest to meet April's eyes. To his embarrassment they were alight with an inner merriment despite the sobriety of her voice. "So… camera?"

She waved for him to sit down as she headed in. "You told Don you saw somebody out on your fire escape." When he nodded a small assent she continued on. "He talked about it with Leo – and they considered watching your place but realized they couldn't do it twenty-four seven. Leo watched your place the last two nights but couldn't see anyone; but that doesn't include early mornings and evenings when they can't be outside. Don took Mike and Raph scavenging at that closed down electronics store that want bankrupt. They never took their security cameras down from the roof when they left, so Raph and Mike repossessed them. I volunteered to hang one on your fire escape that Don is hooking up to your TV/VCR. That way we can have outdoor footage of whatever goes on, even in the daytime."

He blinked a bit, letting that sink in, as shock bled out of his eyes. "I didn't think they would actually believe me."

"There was talk that you were dreaming it all up, especially after the insomnia you've had lately – but Raph noticed the Purple Dragons have been out in more force lately so everyone figured it was better safe than sorry." April replied, standing and watching him. "On that same subject, you should really get some sleep."

"I'm trying, Babe. Trust me, I'm trying." Casey replied in a dull defeated tone.

She gave a small, concerned sigh. "Don brought over some sleeping medication, and also some tea Splinter made. Maybe you should take some?"

Casey made a face of disgust. "Can't I just have a fifth of brandy instead?"

Her eyes widened. "No!" She almost chuckled, but kept her expression severe, like a parent chiding a naughty child. "That is certainly not what the doctor ordered."

"Gramma used to swear by it," he protested.

She shook her head, putting her hands on her hips and heading for the door. "But your grandmother isn't here. I am. I'll bring you up some tea."

"Yummy, tea." He grimaced and was about to lie back on the bed when impulse suddenly grabbed him and he pushed himself to his feet. "Hey, April?" He caught her hand just before she left the room, tugging her to face him with a gentle pull.

"Casey…" Her voice started dismissive, but it calmed into a quiet questioning as she caught his expression. "What's wrong?"

"You know all that shit I sad a few days ago?" His eyes flickered upwards to meet hers momentarily, quiet and apologetic, before returning stubbornly to the floor. "About you being ungrateful?"

She gave a tight nod. "Yes, Casey, I remember." She searched him, trying to figure out where this was going, her expression turning dark.

He looked back up, his dark eyes were startlingly clear. "I just wanted to say… I'm sorry. It was a whole load of bull because I was feeling defensive." He paused and repeated, "I'm sorry."

She felt her jaw lower a bit in astonishment, feeling her words slip free from her control and fade away. Finally she closed her mouth and walked to sit on the bed. "What brought this up?" she asked quietly.

He shrugged slightly, turning towards her. Apologies were not his strong point, nor did he practice them very often. Hardly ever in fact. But with his nagging dreams he felt that he needed to say something just in case his paranoia came to pass. "I had to exorcise my own demons – you know?" He sighed as she frowned a bit, and added, "Besides – you didn't deserve that. Any of it."

She patted the bed beside her, urging him to sit. "I don't know- maybe I did deserve some of it." She turned and shook a finger at him as he sat, "though I'm not the proper target for your wounded pride."

"I know…" he started, but she placed a finger on his lips.

"Apology accepted, Casey. Now shush." As he quieted she looked over towards him. "I thought long and hard about this, Casey. You know - I don't understand a lot of things about you. I mean most men your age want to make sure they have a better TV and a bigger lawnmower than their neighbor does. They consider a beer to be celebration for a football game, not for breaking up a robbery. I don't understand why you would continually take a beating for people who would as soon as call the cops on you as they would thank you." She sighed and took a breath, "But I appreciate the fact that you give a damn. I appreciate that you have ideals and you live by them. That you dream of a better city, rather than a better car. And I appreciate the fact that your best friend is a giant turtle. It takes a special kind of a man to see past appearances and really care about the heart of the matter – or a stranger or another person no matter what they look like. So while I hate the idea of you getting killed out there – it's not because I think what you're trying to do is wrong or bad or foolish. It's because I think the world needs you around, and I don't want to lose you."

He blinked at her, the words still sinking in after she stopped speaking. Her eyes hit him clear and earnest and he felt a lump form in the back of his throat that he slowly swallowed. "I thought…" He stopped, not really knowing where to take his mess of thoughts. "I mean I never…" He tried again and shook his head; a wide-eyed innocence was bleeding from his expression. "I didn't know." He ended quietly, letting his eyes fall to the floor.

He felt her lips, feather-light against his cheek, and it flooded his face with warmth. "Now you do." She whispered lightly. She took his hands as she stood and leaned over to plant a second kiss on his forehead. "Try to get some sleep. Please?"

"I'll try." He looked up at her for a few seconds as she lingered and drew the hands she left behind to his own lips for a kiss.

"I'll bring you some tea." She called from the door. But by the time she returned he was already asleep, looking more relaxed that she had seen him in ages. Perching on the edge of his bed like a tiny bird, she brushed his hair back from his face and gave him one last light kiss. "Sleep well, Casey."

xXx


	6. Damnation

xXx

**Damnation**

_because sometimes our worst fears do come true_

xXx

Certain sounds had the ability to make Casey's stomach drop into his bowels. The shattering of glass was always one of them. The roar of an engine was another. A scream always caught his breath deep in his throat and made him momentarily wish to vomit.

All three of them in short succession was something he never wanted to hear.

xXx

It had been a blissful morning by the standards of the last few days. April was chipper, and she had gone shopping. He found her making pancakes in the kitchen. After having the first full night's (and the morning and part of the afternoon) sleep in several days Casey woke to find the pain in his chest had greatly decreased, enough that he could make it down the stairs without help. She greeted him cheerily and her disposition only improved when he responded back in more pleasant tones than she had heard in a week. After she had served brunch they sat and talked, and for the first time in several days Casey actually felt excited to hear that Don would be bringing company this evening. He was even starting to feel up to facing Raphael. Maybe.

As the afternoon wore on Casey showered and gathered together some laundry while April tidied up. It seemed like the perfect respite, to be capped off with pizza, company and movies. She even teased that if he was good he could have a beer.

She was tugging on her coat, ribbing him that he picked the worst apartment address in the city. "You know, the only pizza places that deliver here are those greasy chain-stores."

"What's wrong with grease, babe?" he grinned a bit. "It worked in the 70's"

She shook her head at him. "Maybe as a musical, but not in my arteries. I'm going to go pick supper up. The guys should be here soon."

He looked over at her from the main room and in a vague bout of flirtatiousness he blew her a kiss. She rewarded him with a brilliant smile before she hooked her keys from the table, grabbed her purse and headed out.

He had just settled back on the couch when he heard the smash.

_No._

He had leapt up and was blocking out the dull throb of pain from his chest while running for the closest exit through the patio doors that led to the balcony when he hear the roar of the engine.

_No! _

He was bursting through the balcony, his head and eyes swinging wildly up and down the alleyway when he heard the scream and his worst fears were confirmed. April.

_No! No! NO!_

She was being stuffed into the back of a pickup truck with a topper that had all the windows spray painted black. Struggling, surrounded by a car full of Purple Dragons with weapons drawn. Casey's mind screamed in panicked protest even as his lungs were barely capable of permitting him anything but his next heaving breath. he focused on the van and threw his legs over the balcony leaping for the fire escape.

_NO!_

He hit the metal hard and his vision flashed completely white. The rickety metal vibrated around him sending a high-pitch ringing whine through his ears and a stab of pain through his chest. April's scream came once again, muted. The engine flared. Slowly Casey dragged himself to his feet, his knuckles were white upon the railing as they strived to hold him upright.

_NO!_

His breath came to him in ragged dry pants as his eyes searched for the April through blurry disoriented vision. He heard the clang of the back of the pickup closing and the engine screamed a third time, punctuated by the squeal of tires.

_NO!_

He found just enough stability to stumble down the next set of escape stairs before his legs wavered and threatened collapse. The driver of the truck had a head like a bulldog. He looked up and fixed Casey with a sadistic grin for a second or two before he swung the truck around and peeled out of the alleyway. The vigilante felt his throat go completely dry as he hit the metal grate with his bare knees. The expression on the driver's face was clear: he was meant to see them. He was meant to try this chase, and they knew he would fail.

"Noooo!" The ragged cry escaped his lips as his shoulders heaved in painful bursts. Tears flowed down his cheeks without restraint as his head fell weakly into his hands. He kept repeating the word like a mantra, desperately wishing if he said it enough he would wake up and this would all be a bad dream.

But he never woke up. He was already awake.

xXx

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out something was wrong when they arrived. Mike noted it was awfully cold in the apartment and Leo wondered why Casey and April weren't out yet. Donatello made a cursory check out the open patio doors and his brother's suspicions were confirmed.

Casey Jones sat two floors below them, balled up into a ragged huddle in the corner of the fire escape, alternating between wheezing coughs and raspy sobs. Don was almost out the door when his older brother's hand gave him pause.

"Hang on... there could be others out there." Leo cautioned, sounding ever-rational.

Don stopped and took in a breath, trying the simple solution first. "Casey... are you OK?"

Casey didn't look up. He simply swayed his head faintly and mumbled a word that sounded an awful lot like 'gone'

The purple-clad turtle turned back to his brother, his brow knit in concern and gave a very faint sigh. "We need to go get him."

Leonardo's eyes were flickering on the alleyway, the neighboring apartments and the cross street. It was dark... enough. He gave a small nod. "Get him quickly. I'll help you bring him inside."

Don nodded and slipped out, hanging down low behind the railing just long enough to listen for any other people around before he swung down onto the fire escape and slid down to Casey's level.

"Gone... gone... gone." Casey repeated, rocking himself.

"Casey, calm down." Donatello's voice was calm and rational, like an anchor in a stormy sea. "Can you walk?"

The man's tear-streaked eyes looked up at the teenager, and he gave a dry swallow before nodding. "Help me up."

We was offered a muscular green arm to steady himself and slowly he regained his feet, his chest crying in protest. "Come on, we'll go in through the bedroom." Don reasoned, thinking it would be easier to simply pass Casey through the window to his brothers than try to jump back onto the balcony. He could feel the older man's weight sag against his shell as they made the longest two-flight climb either would ever remember.

xXx

Within a half hour Casey had regained enough of his wits to form coherent sentences and explain what had happened. Mike made repeated calls to every phone April owned and came up with nothing but unanswered ringing. While Don was rechecking his injuries Mike suggested they check out the tapes from the camera April had rigged. It gave them a decent view of the pickup and confirmed Casey's story, which did nothing to improve anyone's mood.

"You need to come the lair with us." Donatello was rationalizing calmly with Casey as Leo spoke to Master Splinter on his shell cell and Mike had switched from calling April to trying to get Raph to pick up and answer.

"I gotta find her." Casey mumbled, rolling away from the medic's gentle touch.

Don shook his head sternly. "No, Casey. Not in your condition. If the Dragons found April here they know where you live and they could easily come back. You need to come back to the lair."

The vigilante's eyes raised and locked with the teenager's, noting Don's unwavering conviction. Despite his desperate desire to join them, to seek some redemption that perhaps only he felt he needed, Don's expression clearly said his decision was made and he was not going to argue. Casey would comply or he would be sedated and carried. "Alright, the lair" he sighed, head dropping once more.

"Any answer from Raph?" Leo asked when his own conversation was done, searching his brother's face with hopeful eyes.

Mike felt his shoulders fall and he shook his head glumly. "No. I think he turned his phone off."

Leonardo visibly bit back a curse and took in a short breath to steady himself. "Alright, we get Casey back to the lair and them we see if we can track April."

"If they haven't destroyed her Shell Cell, I might be able to get a track on it." Don mused, and offered Casey a steadying hand.

The eldest turtle gave a short nod. "Let's hope for a little luck tonight. Especially if we can't find Raph."

Just before they headed out, Donatello turned and fixed his human friend with a carefully questioning look. "Casey - you wouldn't have a clue where he would hang out by any chance, would you?"

The vigilante shook his head numbly. "Sorry Don, I don't know where Raph is."

xXx

Casey Jones knew damn well where Raph was. He doubted that the solitary terrapin would change his years-long habits just because of their falling out. If he wasn't answering his cell, it meant he was in his thinking place, which happened to be on the tallest roof overlooking a particularly gaudy theatre complex. Raph said the odd rush of sounds coming from the stage were oddly comforting. Casey stared morosely at the shell cell laying in his lap, berating himself to call Don and give him that answer.

Looking up he swallowed bitterly. Despite the fact that the Dragons had committed the crime, his mind only punished himself, screaming that this was his fault. Being left behind in the lair only heightened his sense of guilt and misery. The only reason he had held this tidbit of information back was the belief that confronting Raph was his best chance of convincing someone he should come along to find April. At least he hoped his friend would see it that way.

"You look troubled, Mr. Jones. Perhaps you should rest?" Splinter walked into his field of view with a warm, concerned expression.

Casey shook his head a bit. "I'm not very tired."

"Your eyes betray you." The old rat chided softly. "Would you like something to calm your nerves and help you rest?"

The vigilante leaned back, slowly mulling that over before giving a small nod. "Yes, please."

As Splinter turned away to head to the kitchen Casey rose from the couch and started to pace slightly, forming a plan in his head that made his cheeks burn pink with shame. He paused, waiting until Splinter left the kitchen to head to his back room where Casey knew he kept his medicinal teas and herbs. He waited until he could hear the click of the door closing behind the old rat before he turned and bolted out of the lair.

xXx

Silhouetted in the obnoxious lights from the theatre blazing below him, Casey's feet hit the wet tar of the tallest roof with a morose squish, the hairs on the backs of his arms rising in the chilly air as fog rolled up from the wet ground. It was almost a picture-perfect backdrop for two vigilantes hell-bent on saving the world.

Save that they weren't saving the world tonight, and they weren't a team, either. Hell, Casey didn't even know if he fit the definition 'vigilante' in his present state. He was feeling more out of breath than a three-pack-a-day chain smoker after chasing the irritated teenager over a roof and up a fire escape.

"Raph!" The word was ripped from his throat, coarse and dry. "Damn it, Raph, stop! You know I can't fucking keep up!"

On the other side of the roof the muscular young turtle skidded to a halt, sending a small shower of black pebbles clattering over the side. He gazed at the smaller man for several seconds before speaking "Why should I care?"

Casey collapsed to one knee, sucking air into his lungs in great rasping heaves. "I wouldn't chase after you if it wasn't important!" The words were hoarse, dragged out between breaths.

Chewing his bottom lip, the red-banded ninja stepped forward, his brows furrowing in concern that was carefully concealed behind the mask. He slunk through the shadows, finally stepping into a hazy streak of light from a billboard only when he felt his expression and stomach settled enough to appear un-flustered by the other man's plea. "So what is so important?"

"You didn't fucking answer your cell." The human hissed back, wiping flecks of bloody spittle form his mouth.

"I wanted to be alone." The terrapin shot back. "You should have known that."

"April's gone." Two simple words forced silence into the air between them, and Raphael slowly realized his jaw had dropped.

"Gone? How gone? What happened?" the wall between the two dropped, and the red-clad brother dropped to his knees to better hear what was being said.

Coughing, Casey slowly drew himself up, staring into Raphael's eyes. "She was out in the alleyway getting into her car. They smashed all the windows and dragged her out. Purple Dragons - at least a dozen. They saw me, I was moving for them and they didn't come after me at all. I swear they wanted me to see."

"How many did you take down for questioning?" the teenager asked, his tone getting deadly serious.

"Fuck, Raph, I almost cracked my head open running down the fire escape and ended up spitting out my own blood into my hands. All I could do is watch the fucking truck drive off." When he looked up his dark eyes were brimming with pain. "Your brothers are out looking for her. I had to sneak away from Splinter to come find you."

The turtle hissed, air whistling through his teeth. "I'm going to go find them, and you're going to go home."

"What? No…" The protest sank through his face, eyes widening into saucers. "Raph – this is my fault, I have to be there for her."

"Casey." Raphael's tone was strict – and somehow far more commanding than Donatello's "If you can't even bring down one Purple Dragon in an alleyway you aren't going to be much good breaking into their stronghold." He paused, eyeing the vigilante. "Let's face it- April will kill me if anything happens to you, so for her sake – go home."

"Raph…" Casey pleaded, "I have to…"

"Casey." The terrapin echoed back, "I don't want you…" He stopped there, regretting the opening choice of words almost instantly and before he could finish in a way that even slightly contemplated being graceful he watched Casey's shoulders collapse into his chest and his expression fall to the ground. Slowly the older man turned and dragged himself towards the escape ladder on the north side of the building. As Raph's mind raced for a better way to express his thoughts the faint chink of metal upon metal hit his ears and he growled, "get back here."

The command rung meaningless on the injured vigilante's mind and he shook his head, ready to head down from the roof before a green hand grabbed him and dragged him back. "What th' hell?" he started before hearing a harsh 'shhh!' in his ears. His eyes that had been glued to the tar slowly rose and caught the shimmer of moving shadows at the edges of the concrete. "Fuck." He muttered more to himself than Raph, realizing with a gnawing sickness in the pit of his stomach that he had been followed. He hadn't even thought about it or tried to prevent it. "Fuck." He groaned again, feeling unshed tears of desperation and sorrow sting the sides of his eyes.

"You stay here. I'll handle this." Raphael growled back, pushing the smaller human behind one of the roof vents before turning and unsheathing his sais. The Purple Dragons were hardly the most formidable foes he had ever faced. Most could be qualified as little better than street rabble in terms of their fighting skills and martial prowess, and the few they had who stuck out as competent threats rarely left their base. Raph's plan was to hit them hard and take them down fast before they could call for any backup. He flipped the blades of his sais along his forearm and rolled behind the housing for an access door, listening to the sound of footsteps on the metal fire escapes. Two in front, three to the left side, two to the right. He gave a feral grin towards the right and waited for the first in the train to show his face.

As a head popped out from over the concrete edge the teen's temple was immediately met by a quick snapping punch, the butt-end of a sai connecting with the small indentation above the cheek. He groaned and collapsed backwards into his buddy's arms and both of them went tumbling to the fire escape platform half a story below, the bottom dragon hitting his back on the metal grating as he cried out in pain and rolled his unconscious partner off of his wheezing chest.

Three more gang members were cresting over the side of the opposite wall, two of them pulling knives and the last one brandishing a hunk of chain. "You have got to be kidding me," Raph muttered to himself. He wondered if Hun has ever warned his misguided legions that attacking the teenage terrapins with makeshift weapons usually only increased the chance of the weapon-wielder injuring him or herself. "Lets make this fast." He muttered to himself – realizing only later it would have been his comment to Casey in one of their normal fights.

The first one rushed at Raphael making a wide swing with his knife hand. The red banded ninja steeled himself and waited, ducking just before the youth made his wild attack and blocking the arm holding the knife with his sai folded against his arm. The metal of the blade end hit the bony part of the man's wrist and he winced in pain. Raph's next movements were a blur – first punching into the nerves on the inside of the elbow with the butt end of the second sai, he transferred both weapons to one hand and with his free hand he grabbed the mans wrist and swiveled it upwards. The knife fell free of the now-limp grip and before his attacker could react Raph gave a quick snap of pressure to the back of the awkwardly positioned palm. The grinding crunch of breaking wrist bones was followed by a howl of pain. Raph pulled the Dragon off-balance by the broken wrist and delivered a sidekick into his gut, sending him flying backwards where he crumpled onto the tar of the roof heaving in pain and shock. He turned to the remaining two.

The second knife-wielder lingered back with trepidation while the heavy-set kid with the chain snapped a folded length together menacingly. Raph shook his head, "you just had to come lookin' for a fight, didn't ya?"

"Can it, freakshow." The bulky gang member hissed back, twirling his chain above his head and letting it lash out like a whip.

"Right." Raph deadpanned back, catch the steel links in mid air letting the impact of the metal hit against his sais, and giving it a good hard yank before the surprise drained out of the attacker. As he was falling forward he was met with Raph's freehand punch. Wavering, the punk stumbled for his balance, only to find his weapon was gone.

It reappeared seconds later wrapped around his neck. "You know, you could have walked away." The teenager's low voice rumbled in his ears. As the bulky attacker scrabbled at his own chain with his fingernails, the third Dragon dropped his knife and opted for a full-out run down the fire escape, his legs trembling. He could hear the turtle chuckling as the chain shifted and his ears felt warm, the blood rushing upwards and then cutting off- like hearing the roar of the ocean and then being dropped into utter silence. It only took a few more seconds before his vision faded entirely to white and Raphael dropped the unconscious man to the rooftop, tossing his chain unceremoniously beside him.

Raph turned, staying low and heading for the next wall, watching as the top of the rusty ladder shuddered loosely in its decayed mortar. He gave a slight smirk and dropped to his knees. Flipping one sai around he used the blade as a tool to pry the protesting bolts loose from their powdery prison before gripping the top of the ladder and looking downwards over the ledge. Two gang members started back, their eyes focused up at him with a mixture of fear and hatred at the freakish form. "You guys should really head home." Raphael intoned, offering them a toothy smirk.

"Go to hell, freak!" The lead climber hissed back, quickening his pace.

Raphael shook his head slowly, making soft 'tsking' noises under his breath. "Didn't yer mother ever tell ya it's not nice to call people freaks?" As punctuation, he grabbed the loose ladder and shifted it several feet to the right, causing a shudder that traveled all the way to its base.

The cocky expression on the lead Dragon's face was wiped clean and replaced by a wide-eyed gaze of panic as his knuckles went white on the rung he was holding. "Oh holy shit! The freak's gonna kill us!"

The teenager resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead shifted the ladder in the opposite direction, causing a second shockwave. "You could always back down."

Gritting his teeth the lead Dragon stopped his advance and looked up to Raphael, pleadingly. The terrapin shook his head. "Go home. This rusty old thing won't hold you and you're not up for the fight anyways." He could smell the slight scent of fear in the air as both gang members started to back away. "Go home!" he snarled again, waiting until they were close enough to the lower roof to wrench the ladder completely free from it's base and twist the upper half until the rusty joints cracked. As the skittish Dragons bolted he tossed the grimy, twisted mass aside and turned to locate Casey.

"Aw… shit." Raph felt the words grate in his ears. He knew this had been too easy.

The roof access door had been throw open in the commotion and a group of nearly a dozen Purple Dragons were fanned out around the roof, a variety of knives and clubs drawn. The center figures was a tall gangly punk with short, blonde tipped hair who Raph thought looked decidedly like a string bean, and a broad shouldered squat man who looked more like a bulldog. He could smell the fetid fish-breath of the latter from across the roof. Fish-Breath held Casey's arms behind his back, while the vigilante struggled.

"Drop him!" Raphael threatened, jabbing a green finger in the air towards the two central Dragons and readying his sais. In reply Stringbean turned and delivered a punishing elbow to Casey's ribs, making the vigilante give a muted gasp of pain. He cracked his knuckles, a ruby red class ring glittering in the hazy glow from the streetlamps. Raph's eyes narrowed, and he wasted no time in leaping forward.

He covered the distance between them in less than a second and as Stringbean went to drive another hit into Casey's already aching ribcage he was met with a solid green kick into his midsection that sent the skinny thug flailing backwards. He turned towards Fish-Breath as the rest of the gang members circled and advanced.

"I thought I said drop him." The red-banded turtle growled, sending a sai-forward punch into Fish-Breath's kidney. The big man crumpled and his grip on Casey released, the latter sliding downwards to his knees. A second punch was delivered to Fish-Breath's temples and a ridgehand with the prongs of the sai kept the lead attacker to his left side at bay. A smashing downward kick to the knee of the group leader on his right gave him a bit of room. He turned to watch the skinny thug leap towards him once more.

Stringbean twisted sideways and delivered a short punch to Raph's side, just between his shell and his plastron. It was honestly a move that Raph hadn't been too concerned about, as he was rather busy making sure that all sharp bladed objects kept their distance from himself and Casey; and he knew he could easily take a few punches. And, truth be told he took this one as well as all the others. It was the 15,000 volts of electricity added from the makeshift picana Stringbean had stuffed up his sleeve that put a kink in his battleplan.

Raphael pitched forward, one hand out to catch his fall, the second covering the spot here the electrodes had connected, intense pain spreading out from his side. The buck-toothed gang member pitched his head back and gave a nasal little laugh before recharging his device and looking down. "You like that, huh?"

"Go to Hell..." the turtle muttered back, reaching out to catch the lanky shin with the hand that had just been holding his side and yanking the skinny man off balance.

Stringbean hopped a little and held on just enough control to swing his prod forward and spit back, "you first."

The electrodes pinned down on Raphael's exposed shoulder, sending another jolt of pain though his body that left every nerve in his shoulder twitching. His hand twitched as well, releasing his grip on the skinny thug's leg, and both of them pitched backwards in opposite directions.

Raph felt his shell hit the ground, hard. He could hear Casey yell a protest and struggle against the men who held him pinned, and then heard the dead thump of a elbow pressed again into already-weakened ribs. Casey hissed and from the edges of Raph's vision he could see the vigilante coughing blood. He tried to get his muscles to listen to what his brain was telling them, but his body shook and failed to respond. Stringbean's smarmy grin appeared in front of his eyes brandishing his prod. "I win." he sneered, placing the electrode ends directly into Raph's chest.

The last thing he remembered was Casey's anguished scream of protest before the world went black.

xXx


	7. Driving

xXx

**Driving**

_because there are times we have no other options_

xXx

Casey Jones felt cold seep into his palms as he rolled over and tried to push his aching body off the floor. His vision hadn't quite returned, and his memory of what happened drifted in and out of reach like a video camera trying to focus. Roof, Purple Dragons, cracked ribs, slipping in and out of consciousness, being tossed into a cave of some sort – it all fuzzily drifted back to him as he stirred to a sitting position. Why had he been on the roof? His brain asked in a sincerely nagging fashion, struggling to fit the pieces together. He was looking for something? Someone? April? Panic rose in his gut as he swallowed a bitter sensation of bile, remembering April's disappearance. He pushed up to his knees and a rush of nausea washed over his form. Doubling over, he heaved dryly several times before sitting back down. April wouldn't have been on the roof, his mind scolded. No, she wouldn't have… but who would? He searched his bleary memory for an answer, and finally one came.

Raph.

He leaned back and groaned, as the events of the night came rushing back to him: the argument, the fight on the roof, the picana, being dragged down, and thrown into wherever they were. A cave? He sat very still in the darkness until he could hear the rumble of the engine, the bouncing of the tires upon the road. Not a cave, a truck. Satisfied with the answer his mind backpedaled and twisted his body around, hands searching in the darkness.

"Raph?" His voice was hoarse, croaking. He patted the cold smooth floor, searching for the muscular form. "Raph?" Casey felt his breathing come in shorter and shorter huffs as he leaned forward, trying to feel farther and farther away. "Please be here," he muttered under his breath. "Please be alright…" He pulled himself forward in the darkness, patting the ground until his hand brushed something solid. "Raph!" He called as loud as his punished lungs would allow.

There was nothing for the first few seconds, and then a faint stirring followed by a low guttural groan as Raphael pushed himself to his side and clasped his hands over his plastron where he has been electrocuted. Casey released a hissing breath through his teeth; feeling tears of relief sting the corners of his eyes in the darkness. "Raph, are you OK?"

"Gimmie a sec." Came the gruff reply. Slowly Casey heard the terrapin stir, and flip to a sitting position. After several seconds of silence he released a long sigh. "What the fuck did I get hit with, and why is it so cold in here?"

"I don't know." The human replied very quietly with a voice edged in guilt. "It looked like some sort of cattle prod."

"Lovely. Can't wait to meet the smart guy who dreamt that one up." Raph paused, venom slowly dripping from his voice, tentatively stretching his limbs to test their mobility. "Where are we?"

The vigilante chewed his bottom lip, rapping the side of the truck box with his hand, while listening to the thick walls muffle up the sound. "Some sort of truck, I think. Feels like a refrigerator." His voice betrayed a note of fear and desperation as his mind flashed back to the dreams he had suffered the past week. Feels like a tomb his inner doubts screamed, and in the darkness Casey frowned heavily.

He could hear Raphael shuffle to his feet. "I hate being cold," the teenager groused.

"It could be worse," his human companion returned, trailing off before finishing the sentiment.

The terrapin grunted. "Worse? Want to explain how exactly it could be worse?"

_Well for one, you could believe the walls were gonna cave in on you!_ Casey's mind rudely screamed. What came out of his mouth wasn't much better in the tact department. "We could be dead? Chained? Alone?"

"Being alone might be a good thing."

The older man drew in a breath, feeling the sting of the sentiment hit his ears. "I came after you. I tried to tell you..." he started, fishing for a way to help his case.

"Yeah? So? And I tried to keep your dirty carcass from getting its guts spilled all over the roof. We're even." The turtle's words had a deep growling tone.

With a stifled cry of frustration Casey threw his hands in the air. "I didn't ask for you to save me! I just wanted you to hear what happened!"

"And I wasn't the one who forgot to watch his back and led a bunch of armed punks straight to us." Anger propelled the words from the teenager's mouth with a hot choppy tone.

"Well maybe if you had your shell cell turned on!" Casey shot back accusingly.

He couldn't see the eye roll but it came through in the voice. "Like I was expecting trouble. You guys all getting together for pizza and happy fun time. All I wanted was some peace and quiet."

"Nice of you to be familiar." the vigilante thoughtlessly retorted.

He heard Raph grunt, the sort of wordless tone of disgust and dismissal usually reserved for outsiders. "You already told me this was your fight and you wanted me to stay out of it. I was staying the fuck out of it."

"I..." the older man paused, his voice trickling to nothingness as shame burned hotly through his cheeks.

"We were friends." Raphael spoke, filling in the silence. "How stupid of me to think that someone like you and someone like me could ever have a meaningful friendship. What the fuck was it? Just night-time kicks?"

"No." He felt the word dribble from his mouth as his body went numb. If his ribs didn't hurt he would have been pacing like a caged animal. "I, uh…" He looked up towards Raphael's voice and tried to collect enough words to being to explain what happened but his brain felt like it was packed through with cotton. "No."

"Then what was it?" The teenager's voice was hot with the need to have an answer, heavy with hurt. "What was so damn important?"

This certainly was not the way Casey had envisioned apologizing, and his brain did not seem to be on the bus that was headed for speech city at the moment. "I don't…" He fumbled around in the muddy haze of his guilt, grasping for all the things he had planned to say, each of them slipping away. "I can't…"

Sick of waiting, the terrapin shook his head in the dark. "I thought you were family. All I wanted was to see you, to make sure you were OK, and to fucking help you." Anger punctuated his tone, filled with a deep underlying bitter sadness, the sting of perceived betrayal. His last words were pointed and vicious, "I was gonna protect you, like a brother. Too bad you didn't see things the same way."

The vigilante held his head in his hands, feeling his shoulders slowly melt into his chest. Raphael could hear his breaths stuttering in and out of his throat in little staccato bursts, and slowly it dawned on him that Casey was crying. Almost against his will the turtle felt his jaw drop, any usual sarcastic spite was drained away by the slow-building shock and worry. The anger, too, diffused as quickly as it had flared and he found himself moving towards Casey with his head tilted downwards. "Are you OK?" he asked in a cautious tone.

There was a long pause before Casey spoke, his voice laced heavily with regret. "I'm sorry, Raph. I don't know how to say it and make it sound decent, because right now everything just sounds like trash and words, but I'm sorry. Don told me what you thought that very night and I felt so fucking stupid, but I couldn't get out of bed and tell you. I was sorry then and I'm sorry now and I don't have a way to make it up to you." He paused and his voice was faintly clearer, Raph imagined he lifted his head. "But I wouldn't have gone climbing that roof, run away from Splinter or chased you down if I thought you were a worthless friend."

Raphael sat back on the chill floor. His next words were surprisingly calm, devoid of malice or anger. Somehow the plain tone hit Casey even harder. "Why didn't you accept my help?"

He swallowed, looking over to the terrapin's hunched form. "Do you have any idea what it's like living up to your expectations?"

He could almost hear the ninja screw his face up in the dark. "What expectations?" The question was faintly defensive.

The vigilante sighed. "Everyone had expectations on their shoulders, whether we realize it or not." He paused or shook his head a little. "No, maybe whether others realize they expect them or not." He paused a second time and took in a breath silently fighting with the words he wanted to use. "Whatever. We all see everyone in certain roles and we all feel the need to be those roles."

"You're not being forced to be anything." The turtle countered.

"I'm not saying forced." Casey sighed. "No one forces their friends or family to be things, you just expect."

Raphael grunted in the darkness. "Sounds like the same thing to me."

"No." He wrapped his arms around his chest, hugging himself for warmth. "When the radio breaks in the van who do you call?"

"Don. Why?"

"And if someone pulled a practical joke on Master Splinter who would be the first one you blame?"

"Mikey. Why?" Irritation crept into his tone.

"And what about that time the old practice dummy was found all ripped up in the lair, who got blamed?"

Raph felt his cheeks burn faintly. "I did."

The older man took in a slow, steady breath. "If I remember correctly Splinter was fit to be tied about the mess and Don was miffed because he had intended to fix it. And when it came time to point…"

"I got the finger." The teenager chewed his bottom lip. He had almost forgotten about this incident. "Leo and Don were convinced I shredded it after I was pissed one night." He sighed faintly. After the incident he had met up with Casey, bitterly complaining how unfair the whole thing was. It still stung that his brothers played judge and jury without even listening to his side of the story.

Casey sucked on his teeth, leaning back slightly. "If I remember correctly you took the blame and almost took the entire punishment before Mike confessed."

He rolled up to his feet, to get away from the chilly ground. "I was so sick of listening to them tell me who I was and what I did without actually listening to me." As he started to pace he whirled to face his friend. "I don't think it's the same situation. I never blamed you for anything."

The vigilante dropped his head, resting it on his knee. "I know, but it goes in the opposite direction as well." He paused, guilt fighting against pride in his chest until his heartbeat produced a dull ache. "When people think you're an indestructible hero you can't always live up to that."

"Indestructible? Nobody's indestructible. But you are sure as hell a hero, Case."

He shook his head slowly. "No, I'm not."

Raph's jaw dropped. "Like hell you aren't"

"No, Raph, listen…" Casey's voice was imploring. "You got into this hero business because Splinter trained you. You know why I got into this hero business?" He paused and answered his own question while the red-banded turtle kept quiet. "I couldn't sleep at night." He sighed, and went on more slowly. "I told myself that I was helping people. I told myself that I was doing what nobody else could do. But when it came down to it, I was pissed off at people who hurt me, and plagued by memories form the past. The only way I could exorcise those demons was to get out on the street and fight. But that fight wasn't a selfless sacrifice. It was my desperate attempt to destroy the past."

"The past?" The words rolled around the back of the van, hanging like a guillotine over Casey's head. He desperately wanted to avoid that question but he could feel Raphael's eyes boring into him, unwavering.

"The past…" the vigilante sighed and drew his knees close to his chest before he started to explain. He recounted his father's shop and how the Purple Dragons ran an extortion ring for 'protection.' How his father stood up to them, and how the shop was burned. Then, with a heavy sigh he explained that even as he grew up outside of the city with his extended family. How the dreams sunk in. The constant feeling that walls were collapsing around him, the night terrors when he threw open all of his windows. At the end he sighed, "When I returned to the city I had already made up my mind to try and find the Dragons. I got lucky; I never had to look very hard. There was a small group of them assaulting a young woman in the back of a car park for her valuables. I had a bat and a hockey mask, and I put two and two together. They were young and went down easy, screaming as they ran off into the alleyway. And that night the dreams went away. I didn't feel boxed in or trapped. And so I did it again. And again, and again. Night after night – like it was a drug." He raised his head, his tone dull "I'm not a hero, Raph. I'm just an addict."

The terrapin considered this in silence before he took in an audible breath and returned eloquently, "Bullshit."

A slight note of shock drained into Casey's features. "But…"

"No. No buts. I'm not saying your story isn't true, but that whole not being a hero thing is bullshit." He turned and enunciated the word very clearly. "Bull. Shit." A breath. "Casey, you could accuse me of doing the same damn thing - fighting to release stress or anger, but fuck. After you got your first cracked rib or busted nose, why didn't you quit? Why didn't you move somewhere else and sit around drinking your pain into oblivion or paying people a lot of money to keep your mind off of your past? I'll tell you why. Because you give a shit. Most people would have given up. Most people would have thrown in the towel. Most people would not be sitting here talking with a giant mutant freak…"

"You're not a freak." Casey interjected passionately.

"Most people wouldn't say that, either." Raph added, hammering his point home. "You think I haven't lost a fight before? That my brothers and I never suffered defeat? Casey, I have fucked up too, and I have fucked up bad. And I'm still here. I'm here because I give a shit. Why are you here?"

He felt his face burn hot against the chill of the air and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "I had to save April... and I figured you needed to know what happened. I hoped you would understand, and you would help me."

The teenager sucked his teeth, letting a look of satisfaction settle across his features. "You're damn straight I understand." He paused and considered. "Don't get me wrong - you were asking to come fight, and with your cracked ribs that's a fool's mission." When he spoke again a faint smile had entered his tone, "but I understand why."

"Casey Jones exorcising his own demons," the older man retorted.

"Bull." Raphael's tone was almost teasing, drawing himself to his feet. "You didn't hurt her. The Dragons hurt her. Stop kickin' your own ass about it, Casey. You're starting to sound like Leo."

He bit his bottom lip, feeling the wave of guilt that rested in the pit of his stomach unfurl and slowly rear its ugly head. "Leo didn't let her get kidnapped. I did."

Raphael shook his head; his tone suddenly clear and pointed. "I learned something from being angry. I used ta tell myself all the time that I was mad at Leo, or mad at the outside world or mad at the foot clan. Whatever I could focus my anger at. But after a while I realized I was mad at myself. Mad at whatever I could or couldn't do – did or didn't do. Now I think: 'fuck that.' I'm sick and tired of being my own enemy."

The vigilante gave a dry swallow, relaxing faintly as he measured this. "This isn't something I can just drop, Raph."

"Sure, change don't come easy, but you need to see what's really going on before you can fix it." The terrapin seemed to shrug. "I already called bull on you and gave it to ya straight. The rest is up to you."

He sighed a bit and then drew himself to his feet to face Raphael's voice. "I think..." Pausing he steeled himself and spoke again in slow determined tones. "I think we should get out of here, find a cell, call your brothers, get April the fuck out of dodge like real heroes and have a beer."

"Now you're talking." The grin in Raph's tone was unmistakable. "But we better keep the beer away from the brothers." He reached out and patted Casey on the back while musing to himself "I don't even wanna imagine Mikey drunk."

Casey reached out, brushing Raphael's shoulder very lightly with his hand. "I never had a brother, you know?"

There was a pregnant pause in the darkness before the younger turtle turned, his voice alarmingly sincere. "You're wrong, Casey. You have four."

xXx

Time seemed to flow unevenly in the chilly darkness as Raphael and Casey searched their moving confinement. Had it been minutes or hours? Without a watch or a window to guide them all they could do was guess. At least the last however long it had been was productive. The van box had shelves, probably originally holding food, and with proper application of force and weight the shelves wrenched handily out from the wall revealing hooked brackets which Casey figured could be used as a tool to help pry the door open. The floor in the back had a draining grate made up of long parallel steel bars, and by using the brackets and a shelf edge as a hammer they were able to pop two out of place. Casey grimaced and noted that he felt they were in a bad re-run of MacGyver. Raph told him to cheer up - MacGyver wasn't a ninja.

"Ha, ha, funny Raph." Casey groaned, fishing at the back of the door to understand the locking mechanism.

"Look, we're not trying to build a bomb out of chewing gum. All we have to do is open a door. How hard can it be?"

He contemplated an answer as he ran his hands across the interior locking device. Two sturdy clasps were intertwined with a rotating mechanism that was anchored on the far side of either door. He rocked back and forth on his heels a bit before speaking, "I'm no expert, but I think this door was built to keep people out, not in. We shouldn't have too much trouble wedging those brackets into the gears and forcing it to rotate."

"Great. You wedge, I'll force." Raphael returned, laying the brackets in his companion's hands. With some shuffling and straining, and a grunt for good measure, the tools were set and Raphael threw his weight against the handhold. Slowly the gears ground and the clasps unlocked with a heavy groan. Casey rushed to the seal to push, only to hear a faint 'chink!' The doors released fractionally, and when the vigilante leaned down to peer out of the crack formed between the two sides he let out a disheartened sigh. "What is it?" The terrapin queried.

"Chain and padlock. I think that was meant to keep people in."

Undeterred, Raphael hoisted his pipe and headed for the crack, sizing up the gap. "Yeah, well if they wanted to keep us in they shouldn't have used such a cheap set up." He thrust the bar through the split between the doors, trying to catch the end through the chain and lock. Turning, he slid over and offered Casey a place beside him. "Ready?"

He was just about to reply when the entire truck lurched forward, the tires squealing faintly. As the momentum shifted wildly Casey lost his footing and tumbled backwards, rolling halfway down the length of the slippery floor with a muted yell. Raphael kept his footing, sliding backwards from the doors and letting go of the pipe as it clattered to the ground. He waited several seconds for the motion to regulate before turning to his friend and offering a hand. "You OK?"

Nodding an assent while accepting the taller turtle's steadying arm, Casey hauled himself to his feet. "Was that just me or did this truck slow down?"

"It slowed down." The teenager confirmed in a dark tone. "I think we're stopping."

Casey grimaced and choked back a momentary taste of bile. "Lovely. We've arrived."

"Not necessarily. Things called stop signs exist. You should know that, you drive." his companion quipped back, grabbing the pipe and jamming it back into the lock.

"With the way my luck has been going tonight we're not only stopping but they'll open us up to a firing squad."

"Then it's time to turn your luck around," Raph grunted, leaning onto the steel bar. It groaned and threatened to bend under the stress. Casey flung his weight forward adding to it and they heard a metallic 'tang' and the clatter of something hitting the pavement as the padlock flew and the door slid free.

Casey couldn't help grinning in celebratory delight as the first shreds of light streamed through the back of the van. "Score!" he crowed, silencing after Raphael pushed him back and they both peered cautiously out of the opening.

The truck lurched forcing them to shift their weight as it rolled forward up a driveway and towards an older warehouse that had heavy markings of graffiti. Raphael craned his neck, squinting to get a better view. "There's a pickup behind us. I don't think they noticed the door yet." He paused and reconsidered the buildings. "I say we get out before they park this thing someplace where we can't move around freely."

Casey swayed and gripped the door as the truck once again changed momentum and the tires rattled over a barrier. "I think that may be soon."

"Then we go now." The red clad turtle grabbed his friend under the armpit, threw the door open and jumped as the truck made a slow turn down a driveway. The pair sailed from the box and into the freedom of the chilly darkness. Raph caught the brunt of the landing with his knees, bending enough to let the impact dissipate harmlessly through his chest and Casey's body. He set the smaller man down and immediately ducked, hearing the blare of the pickup's horn and the sharp sound of swearing from the driver. "Come on, we gotta move." Raphel slid backwards between two buildings dragging Casey with him.

They turned, running into cover and hoping to buy some time away from their attackers. Casey drew in a breath and realized that the pain had dulled by just having Raph with him – and on his side again. He gritted his teeth and redoubled his efforts as the pair slid inside of a storage shed and worked their way to the back only to slip out of a low-lying window and into a different building. The shouts of the Purple Dragons spread out as they lost the bead on their prey, and the two vigilantes hunched down to catch their breath.

"What now?" Casey whispered.

Raph stretched and stole a look through the grime-covered window. "I can see the pickup from here. I think we backtrack and take it." He paused and snuck another peek. "There's a clear path." He turned back towards his companion, worry creasing his face, "can you make it?"

Casey gave a slow nod. "Damn straight I can make it."

Satisfied, Raphael smiled slightly. "Let's go."

xXx


	8. Determination

xXx

**Determination**

_because we can rise above fear_

xXx

They made their way across the yard, panting as they leaned against the back of the pickup. While Raphael straightened to listen for sounds of pursuit, Casey turned to check the door handle. The latch gave a satisfying click and Casey grinned.

"Open?" Raphael whispered. Casey nodded an assent. "Keys inside?" the turtle asked.

"Yes, and more" he responded gleefully, reaching in and quietly drawing out a small pile of treasure into his hands, including a key fob, Raphael's sais, and a shell cell.

It was hard for even the red clad turtle to contain his smile. "Excellent." He tucked his weapons away and flipped the cell open while Casey kept a lookout. "Damn, this is busted."

"Can we still get a call out?"

Raph bit his lower lip and considered. "Don stuck homing beacons inside all of these things in case something like this happened. I should be able to pop it out and turn it on…" He quieted as his human friend made a frantic gesture that the Dragons were coming back this way again, one finger pressed against his lips.

Moving around the side, Casey lifted up the back window from the topper on the pickup truck and waved Raphael over. "Come on. Quickly!" He climbed into the truckbed and slid under a tarp, rolling over to give his friend enough room to climb through and slither in. As the search party approached he strained to listen, trying to pick out a lazy conversation through the commotion. As the voices came closer, he recognized the voice of the heavyset punk who had attacked them on the roof – the same one from the alleyway. "You know, if we get our hands on these freaks, them plus the girl would make a mighty fine impression on Hun. We could giftwrap 'em all up here and bring 'em over to HQ."

"No. Too dangerous" his stringy companion returned. "You know those freaks come in a four pack. They'll probably track their kind down to the bitter end and Hun'll be pissed if we lead them to HQ. Better to just kill them all, and take just enough of the bodies back to Hun so he can have a trophy." He paused, idly kicking gravel. "I bet the girlie's head would look good as a taxidermy."

Bulldog rolled his eyes and sighed. "How about we kill 'em all except the girl?" He shrugged towards his compatriot's confused expression and added, "she's hot and I'm not really into necrophilia."

Stringbean shook his head, chuckling. "You're a sick bastard, you know that?"

"Damn straight." Bulldog and Casey echoed the exact same sentiment, only the former's voice was laced with a sadistic glee, while the latter's was heavy with disgust. The vigilante turned his head up to his terrapin companion, questioning. "If April's here, we should bust her out and go" he breathed in barely a whisper.

Raphael put a finger up, waiting for a close set of footsteps to pass before murmuring a reply. "We gotta move quick; now that they know we're out they'll have heightened security." He paused and considered for a moment before adding, "What we could really use is a distraction."

Casey gave a silent nod and both hunkered down for another minute until the voices and footsteps had completely cleared, heard only in the distance. Raphael carefully snapped open his shell cell. The broken screen still shed enough light to get a hazy look at what else was laying around them. He set about opening the back of the case to pluck the homing beacon out while Casey dug through the boxes of supplies stacked at the back of the pickup.

"Shit, look at all this stuff!" Casey exclaimed, peering under a tarp that covered a haphazard pile of tools. "Crowbars, sledgehammers…" pulling over a wooden box he slid the top off. "What's this? Explosives?"

The turtle leaned over giving a slow nod of agreement. "Probably what they used to bust into that bank last month."

He gave a faintly immature grin, grabbing several of the canisters. "I can think of a good use for these."

"Leave it, Case." Raph cautioned, flipping the shell cell closed, the tiny beacon emitting a steady flash of light. "We need to get out of here, set a distraction and grab April."

He slid out from the bed of the truck, waving the canisters in the air. "You want a distraction? I got an idea…"

xXx

Raphael stared at the truck as Casey connected the last few wires from the canisters to the engine and quietly closed the hood. "You sure this idea is fully-baked?"

The human perked a brow. "You think I'm being impulsive? This'll work…" He shrugged a bit, "and even if it doesn't - we don't have enough time to worry about it." He paused and snatched up the key fob as Raphael reached inside the cab to pull the parking break and slide the gear to neutral. "Besides," he added with a boyish grin, "I always wanted to do this."

"I'm glad I could help fulfill your childhood dreams of pyromania" Raphael deadpanned as he slid around to the front and gave the truck a push. It started to rock back and forth. With two more shoves and a solid kick it started to slowly roll down the slope of the drive.

Casey shook his head at his friend and allowed himself a moment of indulgence. "This is gonna be so cool…"

"Shh" Raph cautioned, waving his friend downwards. "I can hear them circling back." Grabbing Casey by the arm he pulled them both back alongside the van. The Purple Dragons fanned out, waving flashlights across the walkways as the two vigilantes backpedaled, heading in-between the garages. One of the flashlight beams caught the glint of windows in the lazy run-away pickup and the Dragons started shouting to give chase. The terrapin turned back to his friend, brow creasing. "How are you gonna make that thing blow?"

Casey's eyes glittered as he held up the keys. "Automatic starter, keyed into the engine. Think we're far enough?"

Raph peered around the corner, watching as the punks gathered near the vehicle. "Now or never."

Casey held his breath and punched the remote. The truck's engine flared to life and exploded in a fireball that sent a pyre of orange flame and black smoke billowing up into the sky, followed by a concussive burst that knocked the gang members on their asses. Casey's squeal of victory was drowned out by the panicked shouting of the Dragons as they regained their wits. "Let's go!" Raphael urged, running towards the main warehouse, half carrying Casey to get some extra speed.

xXx

"It's got to be that one." Raphael pointed to the lit room on the top floor and started searching for a fire escape.

Casey tiptoed behind him, pressing a hand against his side to dull the pain in his ribs. "Are you sure?"

His companion nodded back once. "Uh huh. We looked inside, the ground floor is clear. It's a warehouse with a partial second story for offices, and that means the offices are only places with four walls to them. Those offices are right up there. Only one lit, good chance she's got guards."

The vigilante processed this for a second or two and then gave a nod of agreement. "How do we get up there?"

"Fire escape will take us up to the roof" he pointed the route. "From there it depends on how she's guarded. Let's go."

xXx

Raphael hung off the fire escape, one foot anchored on a window ledge, straining to watch the backlit shadows pacing past the window. As he pulled himself back to the metal platform, he gave an irritated grunt.

"What is it?" Casey queried, knitting his brows.

"They got guns. I hate guns."

"Never bring a crowbar and two sais to a gunfight?"

The red banded turtle rolled his eyes. "Not funny, Casey."

His friend gave a slight smile. "So, plan?"

Raphael took stock of the building area and pointed to the window. Leaning over the fire escape he gathered up some chunks of mortar that had fallen free from the window casing and stuffed them into Casey's hands. "I'm going up. You're gonna distract them. Be very careful, you know they're gonna shoot at you so keep yourself behind cover, you got me?"

"Yeah, I got you." He nodded and looked at the collection of jagged stones in his hand. "What'm I gonna do with these?"

Raph touched Casey's forehead with two fingers in a light 'bonehead' maneuver. "You were a ballplayer. Throw them at the window!"

Casey's mouth made a silent 'Oh!' shape and he slid back as far as he could towards the corner waiting for Raph's signal. A few seconds later the ninja mask peered out from the top of the roof and Raph hooked his feet over, shimmying down to stand on top of the window ledge. He waved a sai and mouthed 'now.'

Casey made a fist, and kissed it like he used to kiss his lucky baseball when going for a winning pitch, and hurled the first stone. It hit the center of the window with a sharp tang. The response inside was immediate. Both guards came running to peer out as Casey took a second pitch - this one hit home. The stone smashed through the fragile aged glass, leaving a spiderweb of cracks and a small hole. The smaller of the two guards made a jittery movement towards the window and pulled it open as the other one pressed himself again the side of the room. Slowly both put their arms out of the opening, scanning the darkness with their handguns. "Three strikes and you're out." Casey murmured, pitching his third stone a little to the left of the window, where the smaller guard jerked to look, leaned forward and fired off two rounds. When the ricochet of the bullets off the mortar sent a spray of concrete into his eyes, he yelped and panicked, firing again.

With the guard off balance and distracted just enough, Raphael took his moment. He leaned down, one hand gripping the window casing like a lifeline, and the other snaking out to attack. He grabbed the smaller man, pulling him out of the window and simply letting go. The guard panicked and shrieked, dropping his gun and scrabbling to hang on to the window frame. The second guard cursed and fired up at Raphael who jerked to the side, his own footing wobbling.

On the fire escape, the vigilante's eyes narrowed at the newcomer. "Like hell you do." Casey picked up the biggest stone of the bunch Raph had given him and tossed it at the punk's face before he could get another bead on the turtle. "I'm over here, asshole!" he called before scrambling up towards the roof as fast as his legs could carry him. The second guard swore and leaned over, firing in angry response at Casey's retreat and Raphael's legs.

From the bullets and the stress of holding a fairly heavy terrapin, the casing Raph stood upon started to crumble. He started dancing amid a shower of concrete powder to find new hand and footholds before he slid down the face of the building. He gritted his teeth, wishing that he had some backup, but sorely doubting that Casey would be able to pull him up, even if he reached the roof in time.

As if someone read his thoughts, a muted, muffled exclamation of strain came from inside the room. As the second gunman leaned out to fire at Casey again, there was a sharp thud and his body was shoved through the open window. Raph took in a breath and peered downwards to watch April O'Neill huff against her gag, and plant a second kick into the guard's back. He grinned and took the moment to get a good purchase for his hands before slamming the ball end of his sai into the second guard's temple. The gunman sagged, bent double out the window, leaning on his panicked companion. April gave them both one last push, and the weight of the second stripped the handhold of the first. Both guards went careening down to the ground, landing on the soggy grass with a painful smack. Raphael breathed a sigh of relief and swung inside.

As Casey made his way down to the office room, Raphael untied April's arms. "I could have told those punks, they should know better than to leave your legs free." And he paused, slicing her gag off. "Thanks for the help."

April's expression of relief turned to one of deep worry when she say Casey slide in through the window after Raphael. "What are you guys doing here?"

Casey waved a hand in the air, in no mood for an argument. "Getting out, come on." As April was freed from the last of her bonds, he turned to make his way out, but the crack of gunfire sent him reeling back for cover.

"Don't tell me those two are still up and kickin'" Raph grumbled, checking for other exits.

The vigilante shook his head. "I think that gunfire brought all friends here." Several more shots ricocheted around the window and into the room, prompting all three to cringe and hunker down. Raphael leaned against the door with his shell and wedged his sai into the old lock, jamming it until it popped.

"Alright, plan B." He waved the two humans out before him.

"What's plan B?" April asked.

"There was a plan A?" Casey muttered

The turtle shook his head. "Plan B is make shit up and look for any available exit."

"I thought that was plan A." Casey countered as they moved down the hallway and into the warehouse proper. "If we get to ground level we got a whole bunch of options."

"If we get to ground level we got a whole bunch of Dragons." Raphael reminded, running for far side. "There's a vent here that heads up. I'll pop it and we can head for the roof" He reached out to tug on it when the heavy sounds of booted footsteps were heard above them. "Or they found the fire escape just like we did. Ground level it is."

The three of them surged down the stairs, Raphael skating the railing. He landed first and took a quick stock of exits, flagging his companions to the back man-door. They started running forwards, Raphael in the lead until he heard a click. The door was kicked open and flooded with gang members as all three skidded to a sudden halt. "Shit." Raphael muttered and backpedaled, pushing April and Casey to a side door, again opened by weapons-bearing punks. "Alright, main doors." They made a break, running at full tilt until they saw blinding lights stream through the window. "Shiiiit!" The word was torn from Raphael's throat as he grabbed his companions and pulled them backwards and to the side.

The entire loading dock door caved in, denting to one side and spraying debris across the warehouse before collapsing. The headlights of the box truck shone through the wreckage, and the back doors opened up, a flood of Dragons surging from the bowels as the driver laughed manically. Surrounded, the three heroes backed up, going back-to-back.

"We got a plan C?" April asked in a tense voice.

"I sure as hell hope so." Casey muttered.

xXx

They didn't even take the time to tie them up, just holding them down with brute force, or in Raphael's case guns and the picana. Casey might have been insulted if he wasn't so worried. Bulldog slid out from the driver's side of the truck, joining Stringbean in the front, and inspecting his captives with a sneer. "Hot damn, Hun's gonna be proud of us."

Raphael stifled a snort of disgust. "So you're playing at felonies just to get a nod from Daddy?"

"Hey!" Stringbean shouted, waving his homemade cattle-prod in the air. "Who's captured here? I would shut up if I were you." Pushing his point, he charged the electrodes and waved the sparking end in front of Raphael's beak.

Bulldog smiled lazily, strolling back and forth while keeping his eyes on Casey Jones. "What I wanna know is why are you so stupid that you came back here to pick a fight after we already kicked your ass?" He stabbed a finger towards Casey and then waggled it between the three. "Did you really think your freak friend was gonna help you? Or do you just have the hots for your employer?"

Casey's eyes narrowed as they sized up the considerable opposition. "I didn't come here to pick a fight," he snarled. "I came here because I'm sick and tired of innocent people getting hurt." He cast a glance towards April before returning his glare to Stringbean and Bulldog.

"I think you're giving me a line, vigilante" the hefty gangmember challenged. Stalking closer to Casey he smacked his fist into his palm, the crack of flesh on flesh echoing through the warehouse. "I think you got shaken up pretty badly when I beat your ass into the ground the first time and you wanted to come back for something."

"And what do you think I wanted?" Casey thrust his chin up, never breaking eye contact.

Bulldog smiled, hovering close enough to Casey's face that the smaller man could smell fetid cheese on his adversary's breath. "I think you wanted some revenge, and I think you wanted to prove you had the cajones to face us again." He chuckled, giving a nod to the men who held Casey pinned. "In other words I think you're trying to prove you actually got balls." Slowly the Dragons to either side of the vigilante released his arms and gave him a none-too-gentle push in the back.

"Case…" Raph uttered in a guttural growl, his dark eyes casting a silent warning. His friend stumbled forward and brushed a stray shag of hair back from his face to cast a short glace back that seemed to say 'I got this.' The turtle closed his eyes for a second, uttered a silent prayer and held his breath.

"I got the balls?" Casey started, his arms up and palms open. "I don't have to fight you to prove I got balls, kid. In fact, I don't have to fight to prove anything. I don't need to prove anything." He set his jaw in a hard line, stabbing a finger towards Stringbean and Bulldog. "I prove I got more balls than you every day. Every damn day. Every time I walk down the street and talk to people instead of bullying them. Every time I help the old folks carry their groceries up the stairs instead of jacking their wallets. Every time I hold the door open for a girl instead of trying to rape her I prove I got more balls that you!" his voice raised, to the point of shouting before it fell to a soft, dangerous murmur. "I don't fight because I gotta prove something. I ain't you. You fight because you gotta prove something. Because if you can't feel good about yourself you can always beat somebody up and pretend you're tough. No. I fight because I give a damn about the people you hurt. Because I think that they shouldn't have to suffer just because you don't have any balls."

Casey steeled himself, he didn't know how long that would take to sink in, but he knew once it did that he was in for a world of hurt. To the side he heard Raphael let out a long breath and April gasp. He raised himself to readiness despite – or perhaps through – the pain. Bulldog launched himself with a bestial howl, swinging his punch wide. Casey caught it with in a side block and snapped a calculated punch to Bulldog's jaw and an uppercut to his gut. He stayed on his feet as his opponent went reeling, staggering backwards on the sandy ground.

For a moment silence rippled through the floor, and the gang seemed to hang in a moment of time, as if they were all trying to process the same thought. Casey whirled around in the center of it, wishing he could cow them all by force of his stare alone. Several dozen startled, but deeply angry pairs of eyes stared back.

In the stillness Raphael cast a glance to April, and nodded his head three times. Casey had their attention for good and bad, there was no time like the present. Three… Two… One… April gave a cry as she squirmed forward from the Dragon who had grabbed her, planting a back kick into his groin before hopping free. Raphael was far more silent, turning and grabbing the wrist that held the pistol in the seconds his guard was distracted. He jammed it upwards past his body and flinched as the report cracked beside his ear, the bullet carving a perfect hole in the top of the wall. He delivered a strike to the gunman's throat and another to his temple before pushing him backwards into his companion.

The Purple Dragons snapped back into focus, putting their array of weapons to the forefront as their leader gave a raspy little cough and drew himself up. "Kill the freak. Keep the girl, and I want the vigilante alive for now."

They surged as a unit, disorganized and vicious. Raphael dropped the first two, before his friend with the picana found a tender spot on his side underneath his shell. It took all of his strength to resist howling in pain, slitting his eyes to gain a bit of purchase between him and Stringbean. He despised that toy. Stringbean gave a wan smile and waved his prod around, as if daring the turtle to attack.

April flicked a punch towards two approaching attackers and kicked another in the shins, but more kept coming. While the guys had taught her to defend herself, the sheer mass of the surge against her was quickly overpowering the accuracy of her strikes. No matter how many attacks she snapped off she found herself pressed into a corner, pushed around by sheer weight. Gritting her teeth she changed her tactic to escape. Slipping between bodies, she tired to push the gang members into one another and tangle them up.

To the side Raph lashed out a front kick, catching Stringbean's arm. He yelped in pain as his nerves spasmed from the blow and he dropped his hated weapon. Raphael indulged in a light chuckle at the punk's sudden turn from smugness to horror. "Not so big now, are ya?" He leapt forward grabbing Stringbean and sinking a meaningful punch to his kidneys.

And still the punk managed a light grin. "Still more of us than there are of you." He moved to run, but Raphael was quicker. Grabbing his shoulder, the terrapin spun him around and locked an arm around his throat. As Raphael applied pressure under his ear, he squealed in pain.

"That's not gonna help you" the turtle retorted. He waited for the pressure point to take full effect and the kid slumped. Dropping him to the ground like a sack of flour he turned to face the onslaught, but just as soon as he turned he heard a sharp crack coming from below him. Raph instinctively ducked to the side, and suddenly felt a tear of pain scream through his thigh. Looking around frantically he saw one of the punks had picked up the handgun. Blood welled from his leg. He lashed out to bat the gun aside, and snaked a hand around the gunman's wrist, squeezing until he could hear the bones crack. It was a desperate move, to give him a fighting chance even as he was driven to one knee, but his opponents sense the weakness that came with the stream of blood and rushed him.

The vigilante's heart sunk as he saw his friend go down, but there were bigger problems for him to worry about, mostly the fact that the smelly heavyset leader of this rabble was dead set on ripping him limb from limb.

Casey ducked, punching Bulldog's kidneys as hard as he could, but nothing seemed to stop the battering ram of a man from wrapping his arms around him and squeezing until Casey felt the breath drain out of his lungs in a wheezing gasp. Spent, he sagged for a moment and the punk was on him like a flash. Snaking around to his backside, he wrapped up one of Casey's arms in a half nelson and used the other to dig his knuckles into Casey's punished ribs, twisting to prolong the torture. "You know what I'm gonna do, big man?" He whispered, leaning his mouth beside Casey's ear. The vigilante tried to speak, but Bulldog ground his fist more deeply into Casey's side, forcing the vigilante's reply to die in his throat. "First I'm gonna cut your freak friend up into tiny little pieces while you watch. Then I'm gonna bone your girl. In fact I'm gonna let every Dragon in her bone your girl and we're gonna do it till she bleeds." He said in a tone dripping with perverse pleasure. "And then I'm gonna cut off your balls. And we'll see how big a man you are after that."

Casey's face burned red. He hissed, unable to get enough breath to form words, but struggling desperately. He refused to give up and he refused to lose, digging his feet down to give him some strength. Slamming his head back into Bulldog's nose, he waited until the vicious grip loosened slightly and started kicking the smelly punk's shins. Bulldog grunted in pain and tried to keep his quarry pinned as both men went dancing across the floor. "Stay still!" Bulldog howled, finally slamming a punch into Casey's side as the vigilante slammed the heel of his boot onto the punk lieutenant's foot. The two broke apart, Bulldog hopping backwards and Casey rolling to the floor, gasping for breath.

The gang member came to a halt in a cloud of dust and gravel. He drew a hunting knife from his belt and snarled so widely his teeth glittered. "I am going to cut you, vigilante. Cut you down to size."

On the floor, the downed vigilante searched for anything that might level the playing field. Casey sucked in a ragged breath, his fingers closing around a dropped weapon and he prayed. For April. For Raphael. For the hope that this wouldn't be the last thing they faced together. As the heavyset punk surged towards him, Casey rammed the picana upwards and flicked it on. It caught the big punk square in the gut, electric sparks sizzling off the metal buttons and rivets in his too-tight jeans. He screamed in pain and pitched backwards, the knife clattered to the floor. Casey dropped his own weapon soon afterwards, a sharp tingle from the discharge running up his arm.

"Casey!" April yelled, pulling against the punks who had her wrapped up, desperate to reach his side.

He lifted his head just enough so she could see him and smiled a crooked grin. "I got this, babe."

"No, you don't." Bulldog spat, blood dripping from his mouth and staining his teeth. "Fuck plans. Fuck your friends and fuck you." He staggered to his feet, picking up the gun that had dropped Raphael. "Say goodnight, vigilante, because you're gonna die now." He raised his arm, weaving like a drunkard as he struggled to keep the weapon steady.

"You know, you shouldn't drink and shoot!" A taunting voice came from the rafters. Bulldog's head snapped up as he pulled the trigger, sending a shot careening towards the ceiling. Casey flinched at the sound, yet at the same time he felt an enormous flood of relief wash over him. He knew that voice. The shell cell beacon must have connected.

"Guns are dangerous. You really shouldn't be using them indoors." A second, calmer voice called out from a different direction. Bulldog swung to the backside, gritting his teeth.

"Do you know that there were over twenty three thousand accidental deaths from handguns alone last year?" We would hate for you to become a statistic." A third, clinical voice called from yet another direction. The punk growled and a second shot was fired off. Sparks rained down from the I-beam it hit.

The shadows up top moved and flickered. "Really, those things aren't toys!" The first voice called back a bit too cheerfully.

"You freaks!" Bulldog screamed. "You freaks get out here! Get out here and fight like men!"

"Because real men bring guns to a fistfight." The third voice returned with a recognizable note of sarcasm.

Casey could almost hear Bulldog's resistance snap and the heavyset young punk gurgled out a wordless curse, pointing the gun to the rafters and firing repeatedly. The last two shots burst wild holes in the ceiling before the gun clicked several times. The first voice came from the rafters once again. "Dude… I think you totally invalidated the warranty on your roof."

"Freaks!" Bulldog screeched. "I hate you freaks!"

A lithe form clad in blue slipped down behind the gang leader, katana already pulled. Without taunting or calling attention to himself, he struck against the side of the neck, temples and back of Bulldog's head with the blunted end of his blades in three precise strokes. The young punk's eyes widened for a split second before they rolled back in his head and he sunk to the floor. "We're not too fond of you, either." Leo finished, staring down at the collapsed form with a highly unimpressed expression.

His brothers swiftly joined him, spreading out to disperse the remaining gang members. Casey could hazily see the Dragons offer up resistance only to be routed and sent running as he dragged himself over the yard towards Raphael. Gingerly he placed a hand on his best friend's plastron, only allowing himself to breathe once he felt the terrapin stir and groan in response. "Cavalry's here?" Raphael asked in a gruff, slurred tone.

"Yeah, just in the nick of time." Casey replied, unable to contain the smile of relief that dawned across his face.

Raph hazarded a grin, slowly propping himself up to get a better view and giving a faint grunt. "Figures. They're annoyingly good at it." He paused and cast a glance towards Casey. "I'm surprised." He started vaguely.

Casey perked his head to one side, ducking as a pair of younger punks hurdled them to reach the door and escape an oncoming assault of Mikey. "Surprised at what?"

Raphael lay back down, wincing for a second at the movement. "You actually listened to my advice."

"Fah." Casey tried to wave a hand, and ended up sinking down into the sandy ground as a wave of dizziness passed over him. "I always listen to your advice."

"But you usually don't take it." Raph chuckled. He turned and looked like he was going to say more but fell into silence as Donatello rushed to their sides.

As the warehouse was quickly clearing, the purple banded turtle was in full medic mode. Mike slid up behind him and peered over his shoulder. "Are you guys OK?" The youngest brother asked in a voice ripe with curiosity and worry.

Raphael shot his brother a glance. "No," and added before worry sunk too deeply into the wide blue eyes, "but I'll live."

"You'll both live, but you're also staying in bed no questions asked." Donatello sassed lightly. "We should move. I don't trust sticking around here with the amount of gunfire pulled off in the last few minutes." He poked his head up, searching for Leo and catching his attention.

"Can we move Raph and Casey?" The eldest asked, his eyes still scanning for any hiding Dragons.

Don gave a thin nod. "Better to move them now and get out of here."

Leonardo gave a nod of reply and gestured for Mike to get the vehicle before looking back to the warehouse. "Get them ready to move, I'm going to clean up all traces we were here. We need to be gone before the cops come. I can't believe nobody will notice the amount of gunfire … or that fireball that came from here." He paused and looked towards Raph and Casey. "What was that, anyways?"

Casey leaned back against Raph's shoulder and chuckled. "That, my friends, was a Ford F-150. Was."

Donatello shook his head as he bandaged his brother's leg. "Casey, remind me to never let you get under the hood of our Battle Shell…"

xXx

Casey let out a long sigh, leaning against April as they drove far away from the nightmare of the past few days. Whatever Donatello had given him, it had started to kick in. As he let his body relax into the hazy fog of painkillers he realized that for the first time in a long time he didn't feel constricted. He didn't feel tense or claustrophobic. He felt… safe.

For a moment his eyes fluttered open and he caught April gazing down at him. Slowly he felt a grin creep across his face. "What?"

"I'm just thinking." She murmured.

"Thinking about what?"

April gave a soft smile. "Oh, just about what happened. What you said back there."

He gave her a fuzzy smile. "What I said, huh?"

"Yes." The smile spread into her eyes which made them sparkle. "About not coming to pick a fight." She trailed off, leaving it at that.

Casey sat, quietly listening to her breathe, blocking out the conversations of the turtles around him. He reached up and touched her cheek with a quiet contentment, basking in the comfort of the moment. "Of course I didn't come to pick a fight. I came to save you." He let his hand drop and he relaxed into exhaustion, murmuring almost as an afterthought, "because I love you, Babe."

His head rolled gently to the side and his breath fell into the deep slow rhythm of sleep. April drew in a breath, slowly wrapping her arms around his shoulders waiting several long moments before she brushed a warm tear away from her cheek. In the darkness she allowed herself to smile before dropping down to kiss his brow and whisper "I love you, too, Casey Jones."


	9. Devotion

xXx

**Devotion**

_because we live through our connections to those around us_

xXx

"Casey? Casey!" April's voice was soft, but pointed enough that his eyes snapped open. She was smiling.

He blinked, trying to remember what was going on. Oh yeah. Movie night with the guys. With enforced bedrest for himself and Raph throughout the week, there wasn't much else they could do. The movie hadn't been so great - in fact it was virtually plotless. Everyone started ignoring it entirely and talking about an April vs. Mikey Iron chef throw-down. Casey had offered to be a judge, and as the laughter died down and the attention focused back on the less-than-stellar flick Casey had dozed off. As soon as he took a quick confirmation glance around the room to make sure he was still in the lair he mustered up a smile. "Heya, Babe."

She chuckled a bit at him, taking a seat on the hassock by his chair. "You ready to go home?"

"Home?" He blinked at his watch. "It's only nine o'clock. The night is young!"

"And what are you going to do with your young night?" Her eyes were twinkling, she was laughing without moving a muscle. "You and Raphael have been out of it for going on two hours. Mike even tried to wake you to play some Mortal Kombat, but you were sawing logs."

Casey put a hand to his chest. "In our defense, that movie was pretty soporific."

There was a groan from the couch nearby and Raphael stirred. "Is it over?"

"Over a long time ago," April replied with a grin. "You guys have been synchronized sleeping ever since."

"Hey. Everything is better when you do it with your best bud. Even sleeping!" Casey protested. It earned him an unconvinced brow perk from Raphael. The vigilante slapped a haphazard grin on his face and added, "I feel more refreshed already."

"Maybe you're refreshed because you slept all day." Raphael pushed Casey's shoulder lightly, with a gruff grin. "You're lucky. Bein' a ninja means you gotta wake up and be ready in a moment's notice. Havin' this many insane brothers means you don't get much sleep. I'd kill for your bed."

Casey turned, shooting a grin back. "You're always welcome in my bed, Raph. Wait. That didn't come out right."

April covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a rising tide of laughter, while Raph shook his head gently. "You're a moron, Case, ya know that?"

"I'm your moron, remember?" He teased back, tugging April a bit closer to him. "And no laughin' at me. I can see that expression clear as day."

She stuck her tongue out at him, before pulling away. "You stuck you foot in your mouth by yourself, Mr. Jones. I have every right to laugh. Now come on, I've got the car warming up."

Casey reluctantly rose to a sitting position, pulling himself off the couch gingerly. "Just like that, we're leavin' without sayin' goodbye? Kinda rude, April…"

"Raphael's right here, the other guys are coming momentarily" she replied, exasperated, gesturing to the hallway where Mike's form could be seen waving his brothers forward. "If you want to say your goodbyes all you have to do is get your butt in gear."

"Heh. She said 'butt'" Casey gave a grunt of laughter and a perkily immature grin. It earned him an eyeroll from Raphael, and an appreciative snicker from Mikey as the four brothers gathered. "April's packing me up and taking me home." Casey explained.

"Probably better that you get some rest." Leonardo replied sensibly. He gave Casey a grin. "But maybe in a couple of days we can get together."

Mike gave his brother a playful little chuck on the shoulder. "He just wants to set up an iron chef cookout. He voted himself onto the judge's panel!"

"Well, I think I would be an impartial judge." Leo protested. "Casey, myself, Master Splinter…"

"You just like good home cookin'" Raph teased from the couch.

"I think you could all be judges." April started diplomatically. "I mean it's not like we'd be cooking for only three."

Leonardo grinned back at Raphael. "See? Home cooking for everyone." Raph rolled his eyes, unconvinced.

As they chatted with April about the logistics of setting up a cook off, Donatello edged over, handing Casey his coat. The teenager spoke in a quiet tone, "looks like everything worked out in the end?"

The vigilante gave a small smile, a look of gratitude filling his eyes. "Yeah. It did." He paused, letting the terrapin help him tug the sleeves on. "Don... I really appreciate what you said last week. And that... you know. You stuck around, even when I was a damn big jerk."

The quiet teenager paused, watching the older man with a fond expression. "I understand what it's like to feel frustrated and hurt. I got plenty of brothers who are just as difficult, remember?"

"Still... thanks." Casey replied earnestly.

Don gave a calm grin, gesturing with his fingers between Casey and Raphael. "Trust me. It's better for all of us when you two are together instead of apart. And you're welcome, Casey. I'd come back anytime - just don't take that as an invitation to get yourself hurt any time soon." He winked lightly

"Oh, trust me, I'm not." He smiled back and looked around as the room conversation focused back on him. "I think we've got a dinner date being planned, I'll need my strength for that."

Leo looked over, sounding official. "We can hold the first April-Mike cook off just as soon as you feel up to it, Casey."

"And everyone's hoping you feel up to it soon." Don confirmed.

"Besides, you gotta come back and play some Mortal Kombat!" Mike urged. "Donnie's no good at it." He added playfully.

The purple clad turtle shook his head lightly, backing up. "I would be if you just let me hack the game."

"You can't hack my game!" the younger protested in mock horror. "What if it breaks?"

Don reached out and thumped two fingers onto Mike's forehead. "I got it working in the first place. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't break it, and even if I did, I'm sure I could fix it again."

"Oh yeeeeah." Michelangelo gave an innocent grin.

Raphael looked over to Casey as he was tugging his coat on. "You have to come back now, before they start world war three over the game."

"Such a heavy burden you place on me." Casey started with affected seriousness before cracking a grin, "And I thought world war three was your business?"

Raph gave a faint chuckle, eyeing his friend. "Then consider your trip a sanity visit."

"Whose sanity, yours or mine?"

"Both." Raphael indulged in a smile he hadn't worn since well before this whole ordeal began, and Casey felt himself returning it. He was still wearing it as April ushered him through the lair saying goodbyes and out to the car.

xXx

Silence washed over the vehicle as it rolled into a parking space and the engine was cut. April leaned back, her breath fogging over the windshield for a second before she turned. Casey was dozing again and with a fond smile she brushed a shag of fallen hair out of his face, leaned over and kissed his forehead. His eyes fluttered open. "Whu?" He blinked again. "What was that for?"

"Well, you did come to save me" she replied. "I figured you could use a bit of appreciation."

He lifted his head up from the headrest and rubbed his temple lightly. "I seem to remember you chastising me for coming."

April perked a brow. "I did think it was incredibly dangerous and poorly planned. And don't get me wrong – I still do. You could have gotten yourself killed." She took in a long breath. "If you had done it just to be macho I would be really pissed at you right now."

"I totally didn't do it to prove anything! I was lookin' for Raph at the time" he held his hands up, ready to be defensive when she reached out and took them in her own.

"I know." Her voice was open, sincere. "Raphael told me several times how it went down. He seemed very intent on making me understand… but he didn't need to, Casey."

"Didn't need to?" Confusion crossed Casey's dark eyes.

April shook her head. "Nope. I heard what you said back there, and I believe it."

He swallowed and tried to shake it off, trying to ignore the warmth of her grip. "Well, I was just trying ta' prove a point to those punks, yanno? Get maybe one of them ta understand why being bullies is a dumbshit idea." He took in a breath and shook his head, feeling warmth creep into his cheeks and throat.

"That's not what I meant." Her eyes were smiling, even if her face was calm. "I was referring to what you said at the end of the night."

"At the end?" he screwed his expression up in thought and when it hit him, his eyes went wide. He hadn't remembered the end of that night until now. The warmth in his face flared into an all-out burn. "Aw, April, I'm sorry-"

He gasped for breath as his apology was cut off by a light brush of her lips against his. She really was smiling now. "I never said you needed to apologize, Casey Jones."

He stared at her, feeling more than a bit foolish, and searched for words. He started with a lopsided grin and fell into a heap of misplaced babbling, "April, you know I, uh? I really…"

She laid a finger on his lips to quiet him and leaned over, mirthfully whispering in his ear. "Casey, this is the point where you shut up and kiss me."

He blinked, unable to contain the smile that spread over his face as his cheeks grew bright pink. No need to instruct him twice, he gently tugged her chin back towards him and drew her forward for a kiss. A pause, he lingered close to her, taking in the scent of violet from her perfume before pulling back. Gazing into her eyes, he swallowed and cast his mind back the events leading up to the ambush. "You remember what you said the night before this all went down?"

April leaned back, a smile playing over her features as she gave a light nod. "I do. It feels like it was an eternity since then." She gave a curious pause. "Why?"

Casey drew in a breath, and he realized he was shaking, ever so slightly. '_You can face down an angry gang member with a gun, but you have trepidations about talking to a girl, spit it out, Jones!' _his mind screamed to him and he shut his eyes for a second. When he opened him, he found those blue eyes staring at him full of warmth and amusement. He sighed and smiled. "I don't want to lose you, either."

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a gentle hug, granting him a second kiss. "I know." Smiling into the dim orange glow of the yard light, she tugged at his arm. "Come on, Casey. Let's go home."

He followed her. Watching her move in the darkness, even if it was only through the parking lot was somehow mesmerizing. As they came into the warmth of the house he sighed and realized that somehow, imperceptibly, home felt a bit more like home. Maybe it was the lingering smell of cooking? Maybe it was the knowledge that his friends were close by? Maybe it was just a feeling of comfort that hadn't settled in until now, and dwelling upon it he realized that the past weeks felt like an incredible journey that had led him, ultimately, back home. Before home felt like a prison, now home was a welcome place. Casey sat down gingerly, resting again the back of the natty couch as April shrugged her coat off and moved to join him. He smiled softly as she leaned into his embrace and murmured, "you never told me why you were so worked up that first morning I found you."

Casey took in a short breath. "It's a long story. Stuff I remember from being a kid."

April turned, eyes glittering in the dim kitchen light. "We have all night."

"Does this mean you're staying?" He blinked at her, unable to keep an elated grin from playing across his features.

She smiled back playfully, "only if you're telling me the story."

He paused for a second, considering. He had already told Don, and Raph… and really telling the story again was a small price to pay for having her stay with him. "Well, you see, back when I was just a kid…"

xXx

He stayed up with her for hours, each telling tales of the past and dreams for the future. They watched the sunrise together from the balcony and fell asleep on the couch. True to her word, she stayed. Casey suspected she never regretted it.

It was a beautiful evening, and an even better morning. With April in his arms he felt at peace, not only with the present, but what had happened to bring him here. And slowly as he drifted off to sleep, listening to her breathe he realized he never regretted it, either.

* * *

_A/N: I suppose I am, somewhere deep inside, a sappy romantic. But somewhere in my head, I can hear Don from the original movie calling out "9.95!" every time the concept of April and Casey kissing pops into my head… ;-) After four years, I hope the ending lived up to the beginning. Thank you all for reading, and peace!_

_~PSG_


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